ELOQUENCE  OF  NATURE 


OTHER    P  O  E  M  S 


BY   S.   DRYDEN   PIIELPS. 


HARTFORD: 

G  T  R  D  O  N     ROBINS,    180    MAIN     s<  R  E  E  T  . 
MDCCCXLIT. 


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l.atered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1642,  by 

S.  DRYDE.N  PHELPS, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Connecticut. 


WILLIAMS,  GOODRICH  &    Co. 
Printers,  Hartford. 


TO     MY 


PERSONAL    FRIENDS 
THIS  VOLUME 


i  s 


CORDIALLY    INSCRIBED 


ADVERTISEMENT, 


I>*  presenting  the  following  poems  to  the  public,  the  author 
begs  leave  to  say  that  the  most  of  them  were  written  during 
u  course  of  study  preparatory  to  entering  College.  A  few 
have  been  more  recently  written,  and  others  have  received 
some  slight  emendations.  With  the  exception  of  the  first 
two.  they  are  arranged  nearly  in  the  crdcr  in  which  they 
were  written.  Being  early  and  hasty  productions,  they  are 
not  supposed  free  from  faults,  nor  expected  to  defy  criticism. 
They  may  be  objected  to  by  some  ou  account  of  their  seri 
ousness;  but  it  is  better,  perhaps,  that  they  possess  this 
character  than  its  opposite.  Wilh  all  their  imperfections,  if 
they  shall  inspire  in  the  hearts  of  any  a  love  of  virtue — if  they 
shall  gratify  the  friends  of  the  writer,  and  be  a  means  of 
pecuniary  assistance  in  aiding  him  to  complete  a  course  of 
study,  he  will  cheerfully  bear  the  censure  he  may  incur 
by  their  publication.  S.  D.  P. 

SEPT.  184-2. 


CONTENTS, 


Eloquence  of  Nature,  -         11 

Passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  33 

Recollections  of  Childhood,  49 

Ode  for  the  Fourth  of  July,  1836,                       51 

To  a  Friend  at  Parting,  53 

Evening,  56 

My  Home,  57 

Winter  Evening  Song,  59 

Introduction  to  an  Album,  61 

"  Pray  without  ceasing,"  63 

"  Why  do  n't  he  come  ?"  65 

The  Bachelor's  Soliloquy,  -        -                       67 
To  a  Young  Lady  on  the  Death  of  her  Mother,  69 

"  Let  there  be  light,"  71 

The  Widow's  Son  Restored  to  Life,                   74 

Mutability,  a  Fragment,  77 

Song  of  the  Peasant  Girl,  78 

Music,  81 

To  Mary,  '  83 

The  Drama  of  Life,  -                   85 

The  Saviour's  Voice,  89 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

The  Christian's  Home,  91 

The  Contrast,  93 
To  an  Absent  Sister,     - 

On  the  Death  of  Josiah  McWhinnie,         -       101 

Autumn  Musings,  104 

Invitation,  109 

"There  the  weary  are  at  rest,"  112 

Lines  on  the  Death  of  E.  D.  Ives,  113 

Social  Prayer,  115 

Invocation,  116 

Temperance  Ode,  117 

Children's  Hymn,  119 

To  a  Tract,  121 

To  S.  E.  L.  124 

Friendship,  125 
Stanzas,  on  the  Death  of  Mrs.  J.  A.  Victs,      128 

Eloquence,  133 

To  my   Mother,  137 

"  The  Bright  and  Morning  Star,"  140 

The  Sisters  of  Charity,  -       145 

Hymn,  148 

A  Death  Scene,  -       149 

Death  of  the  Pastor's  Wife,  155 

Sonnet  to  Sarah,  157 

The  Reminiscences  of  Home,        -  15S 
Notes,        -                  -----       1GS 


ELOQUENCE  OF  NATURE. 


THKRE  is  an  Eloquence  in  Nature's  voice, 
That  hath  u  tone  the  Sceptic's  soul  to  move; 
And  bid  the  care-worn  pilgrim's  heart  rejoice, 
As  through  Life's  ever-changeful  scenes  we  rove: 
Old  Ocean  speaks  the  power  of  Goi>  above  ; 
Each  passing  day  proclaims  the  inarch  of  Time; 
And  all  Creation  chants  a  song  of  love. 
That  secrus  like  music  from  a  heavenly  clime. 
To  bless  existence  here,  and  tell  of  joys  sublime! 


ELOQUENCE    OF   NATURE. 


or  SONG! — blest  resident  of  light! — 
Wing  down  to  earth  again  thine  airy  flight; 
And  let  the  thrill  thy  mystic  powers  impart, 
Flow  through  the  feelings  and  pervade  the  heart ; 
And  give  to  dormant  words  a  potent  skill, 
To  light  a  flame  that  every  mind  shall  fill  : 
Oh,  touch  the  wakeful  harp,  inspiring  Muse, 
And  sweetly  now  thy  hallowed  strains  diffuse ; 
Grant  heavenly  music  to  the  sounding  lyre, 
And  let,  to  aid,  thy  peerless  throng  conspire, 
As  at  thy  feet  our  humble  gift  we  bring, 
And  here  attempt  in  faltering  verse  to  sing ; 
While  up,  around,  below,  with  beauty  rife, 
All  Nature  teems  with  harmony  and  life. 


12  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

II. 

There  is  a  language  in  the  works  of  God — 
And  in  my  boyhood's  days  I  often    loved 
O'er  Nature's  flowery  fields  to  roam,  and  learn 
The   alphabet  of  her  instructive   book. 
The  little  lessons  which  she  taught  me  then 
My  childish  fancy  pleased,  and  now  are  well 
Remembered  in  rny  riper  years.     Her  voice 
Is  full  of  high  and  winning  eloquence — 
Now  soft  as  the  bland  cadences  of  love, 
And  pleasing  as  the  dulcet  vesper-hymn; 
Again,  like  fierce  Volcano's  lurid  fires, 
Or  Earthquake's  thunder-pealing  roar  and  shock, 
It  bursteth  forth,  reverberating  round 
The  circle  of  her  measureless  domain. 

Nature  ! — far  as  Creation's  verge  extends, 
So  far  thy  glories  reach.     The  utmost  orb, 
That  twinkles  in  the  limitless  expanse, 
Was  rounded  by  Jehovah's  hand,  and  forms 
A  jewel  in  thy  sparkling  diadem. 
Earth,  Air,  and  Ocean,  all,  are  thine,  as  when, 
At  first,  "  the  morning  stars  together  satiff," 
Jubilant  o'er  the  young  but  perfect  world, 
And  sweetly  smiled  on  blissful  Paradise. 


POEMS    BV    S.    D.    PIIEI.PS.  13 

Though  age  on  age  hath  rolled  its  ceaseless  round, 
And  revolutions  o'er  the  earth  have  swept — 
Empires  have  risen  in  splendor,  and  again 
Gone  down — the  king,  the  warrior,  and  the  sage 
Have  flourished  and  decayed — unnumbered  hosts 
Have  lived,  and  died,  and  mouldered  back  to  dust; 
Still  them  dost  stand,  sublime  as  at  the  dawn, 
And  boundless  as  the  universe  of  God! 

Thy  wonders  and  thy  beauties  here  exist, 
Unrivaled,  in  the  New  World's  wide  domain. 
The  Andes  are  thy  lofty  seat.     Thy  tracks 
Amidst  the  wilderness — the  Amazon, 
And  proud  Missouri.     The  reflecting  lakes 
Thy  mirrors  are — Niagara's  roar,  thy  voice! 

And  o'er  the  Oriental  World  are  spread 
The  varied  works  of  Nature's  plastic  hand: 
Uplifted  mountains,  and  the  lowly  vales — 
The  fertile   spot,  and  desert  drear — the  rills 
That  murmur,  and  the  rolling  rivers  deep — 
The  classic  fields  of  Greece,  where  Homer  sang 
Achilles'  fame — Italia's  sunny  shores, 
Where  Maro's  harp,  and  Tully's  voice  were  heard. 
Her  beauties  yet  remain  on  Scotland's  towers — 
Its  Highland  cliffs — the  homes  of  heroes  brave, 

Immortalized  in  story  and  in  song. 

2* 


14  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

Scotland! — to  paint  thy  scenes,  thy  gifted  son1 
It  needs,  who,  one  brief  year  ago,  portrayed 
The  grandeur  of  thy  bold,  majestic  hills, 
Thy  lovely  glens,  pure  streams,  and  crystal  lakes, 
In  strains  of  soul-inspiring  eloquence. 
But  ah  !  beneath  the  withering,  icy  touch 
Of  the  fell  Spoiler's  wasting  hand,  that  star, 
That  radiant  star  of  hope,  grew  dim — expired — 
And,  like  the  Pleiad  lost,  its  cluster  left, 
Mourning  their  brightest  orb.     Too  pure  for  earth, 
From  chanting  Nature  here,  he  's  gone  to  join 
The  sweetest  songs  of  seraphim   above, 
In  never-ceasing  praise  to  Nature's  God  ! 

Old  Ocean,  with  its  vast  extent,  is  thine, 

O  Nature,   and  thy  power  and  majesty 

Are  seen  in  all  its  changes.     Oft  it  speaks 

In  fearful  tones,  and  maketh  man  to  quail 

With  dread  before  its  awful  eloquence  ! 

Ay,  well  do  I  remember  now  a  scene, 

That  Time  from  Memory's  page  can  ne'er  efface. 

III. 

Once  alone  on  the  shore  of  the  Ocean  I  stood, 
And  surveyed  the  expanse  of  the  fathomless  flood  ; 
Its  waters  were  hushed  in  the  calmness  of  sleep, 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  15 

And  Silence  reposed  on  the  face  of  the  deep. 
The  bright  skies  above  me  were  cloudless  and  fair, 
And  gazing  far  down,  saw  their  images  there. 
'Twas  a  beautiful  scene,  and  Tranquility's  hour 
Ruled  over  the  billows  disarmed  of  their  power 
By  HIM  who  directeth  the  tempest  at  will, 
And  saith  to  the  wild-winds — Be  peaceful  and  still. 

A   speck  in  the  distance  soon  rose  on  my  sight, 
And  slowly  advancing,  with  pennons  of  white, 
To  my  vision  unfolded  a  ship  in  its  pride, 
Which  cxultingly  rode  on  the  silvery  tide. 
How  potent  is  man! — to  myself  then  I  said — 
Who  the  surges  of  Ocean  can  fearlessly  tread. 
To  the  land  it  was  wafting  the  joyous  and  gay, 
Who  from  home  and  its  pleasures  had  long  been 

away ; 
But  were  now  fondly  hoping  to  meet  them  once 

more, 

And  join  with  the  friends  they  had  left  on  the  shore. 
While  onward  thus  moving,  devoid  of  all  fears, 
A  sound  like  a  death-knell  rang  loud  in  their  ears: 
Each  trembling  with  terror  looked  out  with  affright, 
And  lo,  the  tornado  was  coming  in  might ! 
Then  sounded  again  the  wild  shriek  of  despair, 
For  the  swift-bounding  billows  were  rolling  in  air ! 


16  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE, 

Vain,  vain  to  escape  was  their  manliest  strife, 
For  the  whirlwind  came  on  like  a  monster  of  life  ; 
And  down  sank  the  vessel  beneath  it  in  gloom, 
And  all  were  overwhelmed  in  a  watery  tomb! 

I  gazed  on  the  scene  of  that  terrible  hour, 
And  trembled  in  view  of  Omnipotent  Power! 
Though  Ocean  may  sleep  and  be  calm  to  the  sight, 
Yet  it  sleeps  like  a  lion  prepared  for  the  fight! 
How  impotent,  man  ! — when  the  elements  rage, 
His  efforts,  how  futile  their  wrath  to  assuage! 
Earth's  hopes  are  as  fickle  as  Zephyr's  light  breath, 
And  the  journey  of  life  is  the  pathway  of  Death! 
Those   glad  hearts  were   looking   with  joy  to    the 

shore, 

To  meet  with  their  kindred,  but  met  them  no  more. 
'Mid  the  jewels  of  Ocean,  they  rest  in  their  graves, 
And  their  dirge  is  the  music  of  murmurinff  waves  ! 


The  welcome   Morning  hath  a  voice — and  oft 
It    maketh  glad  the  weary  mariner 
Tossed  on  the  billows  of  the  trackless  deep. 
T.'ie  sick  man,  turning  on  his  couch  of  pain, 
Rejoices  when  the  light  of  day  returns, 
And  casts  its  cheering  smile  on  all  around. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  17 

How  beautiful  is  Summer's  golden    Morn  ! 

And  oh,  with  what  delight,  in  its  glad  hour, 

J    lift   my  ravished  eyes  to  the   blue  vault, 

Pendent  above  me,  cloudless  and  serene; 

And  hear  the  music  of  the  purling  rills — 

List  to  the  joyful  harmony  of  birds  ; 

And  gaze  o'er  verdant  fields  and  meadows  green — 

The  tranquil  bosom  of  the  slumbering  lakes  ; 

And  the  high  summits  of  the  far-off  hills, 

Tinged  with  the  radiance  of  the  rising  sun, 

Rejoicing  in  his  course. 

One  smiling  morn 

Like  this,  there  moved,  with  fairy  step,  amidst 
The  beauties  of  a  blooming  garden,  filled 
With  sweet  perfumes  and  fragrant  flowers, 
A  sylph-like  form,  in  all  her  gracefulness, 
Gathering  a  wreath  from  Nature's  chosen  bower. 
And  as  she  passed  with  gladsome  heart  along, 
'Mid  the  luxuriance  of  that  flowery  field, 
Bearing  the  chaplet  in  her  snowy  hand, 
She  seemed   a  being  of  another  world, 
So  lovely,  and  arrayed  in  angel  robes. 

And  such^s  WOMAN — Heaven's  selectest  gift — 
Sweet  soother  of  our  cares,  and  griefs,  and  woes: 
Her  presence,  and  her  sympathizing  tears 


18  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

Are  balm  and  solace  to  the  saddened  heart ; 
Her  voice,  in  hours  of  gloom,  is  like  the  tones 
Of  heavenly  harps,  by  angel-fingers  touched, 
Thrilling  each  chord  that  vibrates   in  the  soul: 
Ay,  earth  is  blest  with  creatures  fair,  that  well 
Might  range  the  gardens  of  the  spirit-land! 

There    is  a  loveliness,  sublimity, 
And  eloquence  in  the  still,  mid-day  hour, 
When  the  bright  sun,  in  his  triumphal  car 
Of  golden  splendor,  rides,  in  peerless  pomp, 
O'er  starry  pavements  of  the  sapphire  sky, 
Gazing  upon  the  worlds  that  round  him  roll 
And  glitter  in  the  light  that  emanates 
From  his  own  copious  and  exhaustless  flame, 
Kindled  by  the  creating  hand  of  God. 

Far  more  sublime   and  eloquent  that  day, 
That  noon-tide  hour,  when  heaven's  affrighted  orb, 
Sick,  at  the  dark  ingratitude  of  man, 
Withdrew  his  brightness  from    Judea's  plains, 
And  veiled  himself  in  saddest,  deepest  gloom — 
Refusing  to  behold  the  awful  scene 
On  Calvary's  brow.     Ah!  shuddering  Nature  then, 
With  unaccustomed  voice,  from  rending  rocks, 
Rousing  from  the  repose  of  centuries, 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  19 

And   from  Earth,  quaking  to  her  very  heart — 
Told  of  the  expiring  Son  of  Man — of  God  ! 

No  cloud  is  floating  on  the  ambient  air, 

And  not  a  breeze  disturbs  the  quietness 

Of  spreading  forests,  groves,  and  peaceful  lakes, 

Reposing   in   the    silent   solitude 

Of  Nature's  calm,  quiescent  sleep,  while  man, 

And  beast  are  resting  in  the  cooling  shade. 

'Tis  a  loved  hour,  and  emblem  of  the  peace 

That  reigns  through  the  high  chancery  of  heaven. 

Change  is  the  life  of  Nature,  and  it  gives 
A  variant  grandeur  to  her   lovely  charms; 
And  speaks,  with  more  than  mortal  eloquence, 
Its  Author's  goodness,  power,  and  majesty. 

Far  in  the  west,  on  the  horizon's  verge, 
At  length  are  faintly  seen  the  shadowy  mists, 
Creeping  along  upon  the  mountain's  brow, 
And  gathering  around  the  azure  peaks. 
Vapors  unite  to  swell  the  floating  mass, 
Which  darker,. denser  grows,  till,  like  a  band 
Of  marshaled  warriors,  the  portentous  cloud 
Scales  the  nigh  battlements  of  heaven.     The  roar 
Of  rumbling  thunder  falls  upon  the  ear, 


20  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

Low,  murmuring  at  first,  in  distance  far; 
But  soon  are  heard  in  deeper,  louder  peals, 
Till  it  would  seem  that  heaven  and  earth  had  met, 
And  both  were  dashed  in  chaos,  formless,  dread! 
The  trackless  lightning's  glare,  faint  at  the  first, 
Now  flashes  forth  in  all  its  vividness 
And  terror.     Lurid  fires,  athwart  the  heavens, 
With  magic  swiftness  fly,  while  torrents  pour 
Their  thickening  flood.    Sublime,  stupendous  scene! 
Back  shrinks  the  sun,  and  quails  the  earth  before 
The  wild  Storm-Spirit's  awful  presence  !     Oh, 
How  oft  I've  gazed  on  the  advancing  cloud, 
In  wonder  and  in  admiration  wrapped — 
Chained  by  the  eloquence  of  Deity  ! 

The  storm  is  past — and  in  the  rosy  west 

Now  brightly  glows  the  smiling  sun,  and   Earth 

Again  rejoices  in  his  welcome   beams. 

Clings  to  the  moving  cloud  the  beauteous  bow — 

Token  of  its  Maker's  covenant  with  man  — 

Arrayed  in  the  tiara  of  its  own 

Grand  gorgeousness  of  hues,  which  artists'  skill 

May  vainly  strive    to  imitate.     Down  sinks 

The  day-god,  'mid  the  glories  of  a  scene, 

Sublime,  and  of  surpassing  loveliness. 

Oh,  beautiful  beyond  expression  oft 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PIIELPS.  21 

Are  radiant  clouds  that  gild,  in  changing  forms, 
The  western  sky,  at  sunset's  peaceful  hour. 

As  linger  bright  and  lovely  hues  along 

The  distant  mountain-tops,  and  on  the  clouds, 

That  dance  in  joyous  harmony  above, 

Reflecting  to  the  vales  the  cheerful  light 

Of  the  glad  sun,  gone  peaceful  down  to  rest — 

So  lives  the  influence  of  the  good  man's  life, 

Though  he  hath  left  earth's  busy  scenes  behind. 

It  lingers  sweetly  on  a  thousand  hearts, 

And  bids  their  aspirations   upward  soar, 

A*  to  the  skies  it  tends,  and  round  him  there 

Gathers  in  an  eternal  halo  bright ! 

Twilight,  in  all  her  solemn  stillness,  steals 
Apace.     The  merry  songsters  of  the  air 
Hie  to  the  leafy  groves,  and  there  fold  up 
Their  weary  pinions.     Fainter  grows  the  hum 
Of  bustling  men,  until  it  dies  away. 
This  pensive  hour  of  tranquil  eventide 
Is  full  of  eloquence,  and  peace,  and  love, 
Which  every  thoughtful  mind  must  feel,  as  now, 
By  Nature's  diapason  charmed,  it  soars 
Aloft,  from  earth  to  heaven.     The  paly  stars 
And  planets  beam  like  diamonds  in  the  sky, 
While  Cynthia  fair  her  silver  car  ascends, 


22  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

And  peerless  rides  among  the  hosts  of  night. 
Poets,  in  deepest  contemplation  wrapped, 
Spell-bound  by  Nature's  charms,  deem  that  they  hear 
From  far  the  choral  music  of  the  spheres. 
Lovers  and  loved  with  lightsome  step  walk  forth, 
Beneath  the  listening  orbs  above,  arid  speak 
The  tender  language  of  affection  deep. 

X 

So  calm  the  night,  so  still  is  all  around — 
Above — below — it  seems  that  Earth,  beneath 
The  lofty  dome  of  Nature's  temple,  bows 
In  prayer  to  her  Creator,  while  all  hushed, 
And  breathless,  Silence  lends    attentive  ear. 
How  deeply  eloquent  this  evening  hour, 
As  gentle  Peace  spreads  o'er  the  hemisphere 
Her  wreaihy  folds;  and  rapt  Devotion  from 
Her  sacred  altars  upward  bears,  exhaled, 
Her  sweetest  incense  to  the   skies.     The  stars 
Are  worshipers  ;   and  while  they've  lighted  up 
The  pathway  of  old  Time,  since  first  his  march 
Began,  their  voice,  from  night  to  night,  hath  told 
The  Eternal's  glory ;  and  as  wayward  man 
Upturns  his  eye  and  gazes  on  the  bright, 
Celestial  hosts,  in  all  their  peacefulness, 
He  well  may  blush  for  his  impiety — 
His  wickedness — his  cruel  deeds  of  blood  ! 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  23 

Who  but  beholds  the  works  of  Nature's  power, 
Kven  in  the  changes  of  a  Summer's  day, 
And  hears  her  all-pervading  eloquence  proclaim 
An  over-ruling  Potentate  Supreme  1 
Where  is  the  man  whose  deity  is   Chance  ? — 
And  who  will  boldly  say,  "  THERE  is  NO  GOD  ?" 


SCEPTIC  ! — go  climb  the   mountain's  lofty  height, 
Where  scenes  of  grandeur  burst  upon  the  sight; 
And  let  thine  eye  the  lovely  things  survey, 
That  glitter  in  the  glorious  light  of  day — 
The  landscape  fair  in  all  its  beauty  view, 
Adorned  with  varied  flowers  of  brightest  hue — 
The  verdant  hillocks  and  the  valleys  green, 
And  rills  that  sparkle  in  their  silvery  sheen  : 
Then  raise  aloft  the  rapt,  admiring  eye, 
And  scan  the  wonders  of  the  star-paved  sky  ; 
And  tell  me,  then,  with  these  before  thy  glance, 
If  this  Creation  be  the  work  of  Chance  ! 

Who  formed    the  wondrous  world — the   heavens 

sublime, 

And  gave  the  seasons  their  appointed  time? 
Who  calls  to  life  the  Spring-time's  lovely  flower, 
And  carpets  earth  in  Summer's  gladsome  hour ; 


24  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

Crowns  the  full-year  with  Autumn's  plenteous  store, 
And  bids  the  stormy  blasts  of  Winter  roar! 
Who  robed  the  moon,  and  lighted  up  the  sun — 
Bade  the  vast  planets  in  their  orbits  run  ; 
And  placed  the  stars  upon  their  thrones  on  high, 
Which   deck  the  forehead  of  the  radiant  sky  ! 
Who  reared  aloft  the  mountain's  towering  head — 
Scooped   out  the  hollow  deep  for  Ocean's  bed — 
Commands  the  billows  to  repose  in  sleep, 
Then  wake,  and  higher  than  the  mountains  heap? 
Who  bids  the  liquid  flames  from  /Etna  pour — 
The  dashing  torrent  of  Niagara  roar — 
Spread  the  broad  prairies  of  the  boundless   West, 
Whose  rolling  fires  rise  wildly  on  their  crest — 
Lights  up  auroral  flashes  in  the  sky — 
Now  deadly  pale,  and  now  of  crimson  dye! 
Who  chains  the  furious  winds  in  caverns  deep, 
Then  bids  them  o'er  the  hills  with  vengeance  sweep! 
Who  hangs  the  gathering  clouds   aloft  in  air, 
Dark   as   the   fearful    visage  of  Despair — 
Bids  the   red  lightning  in  its  terror  flash, 
And  pealing  thunders  break  with  loudest  crash — 
Brings  down  the  treasures  of  the  lowering  cloud, 
And  soon  removes  afar  the  darksome  shroud — 
Bends  the  bright   Iris   on  the   eastern  sky, 
At  which   Earth  gazes  with  enraptured  eye  ! 


POEMS    BY   S.    D.    PHELPS.  25 

Who  gives  the  common  bounties  we  enjoy, 
And  proffers  purer  good,  without  alloy  ? 
Who  fashioned  thee,  thou    unbelieving  man, 
With  powers  of  thought  Creation's  realm  to  scan? 
Tell,  if  thou  hast  the  skill  or  tongue  to  name, 
The  source  whence  thy  mysterious  being  came. — 
Thy   voice   is   silent  as  the  senseless  clod, 
While  Nature's  works  proclaim  their  Maker — GOD! 

A 

VI. 

.\ature  is  eloquent.     She  speaks  to  those, 
Versed  in  the  language  of  her  ample  book, 
With  many  a  voice,  expressive,  and  distinct 
As  the  deep-written  lines,  imprinted  firm 
Upon  the  earth,  and  all  terrestrial   things, 
By  Time's  unresting,  tireless  pen,  strong  held 
Within  the  grasp  of  Death's  relentless  hand, 
Placing   on  all  beneath  the  spangled  arch 
Of  the  uplifted  skies  the  seal  and  stamp 

Of  mutability. 

The  simplest  flower, 

In   Flora's  garland,    as  its  opening  bud 
Expands  and  blooms,  but  erelong  fades  away, 
Tells  us  of^earthly  beauty,  blossoming  but 
To  die — and  warns  us  not  to  place  our  heart's 

Supreme  affections  there.     Whoever  grasps 
3* 


\ 


26  ELOQUENCE    CF    NATURE. 

The  dazzling  rose  will  find  a  hidden  thorn  : 
And  thus  it  is  with  brightest  things  of  earth — 
Alluring  phantoms  of  ephemeral  life — 
Mankind  pursue  its  pleasures,  honors,  wealth, 
With  eagerness  ;  but  feel  the   bitter  pangs, 
At  last,    of  disappointment  and  of  pain. 
There  is  no  joy,  no  flower  of  earthly  growth, 
But  has  its  thorn  concealed. 

The  purling  brook, 

Whose  rippled  current  flows  through  verdant  meads 
And  gloomy  fens,  toward  Ocean's  boundless  deep, 
To  mingle  with  its  waters, — hath  a  voice,    , 
Which  speaks  of  man's  descent  upon  the  stream 
Of  Time,  through  ever-varying  scenes  of  joy, 
And   sorrow,  till  he  launches  out  upon 
The    Ocean  of  Eternity ! 

The  fair, 

Extended  landscape,  sweet  on  Summer's  lap 
Reposing,   and  in  all  the   loveliness 
Of  Beauty's  richest,  gayest  robe  attired, — 
Speaks   of  aspiring  man,  in  all   his  pride 
And  glory.     But,  as   Autumn's  blighting  breath 
Sweeps  by,  and  he  with  frosty  fingers  plucks 
Each  lovely  flower,  it  tells  of  man's  decay, 
Before  the  chilling  blast  and  icy  hand 
Of  Death,  the  dread  Destroyer,  who  will  wrap 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  27 

His  pallid  limbs  iu  the  habiliments 

Of  the  dark  grave,  and  sternly  bear  him  down, 

Jn  silence,   to  the   pulseless    sepulchre, 

Where  o'er  his  mouldering  form  shall  roll  for  aye, 

Oblivion's  shoreless  flood  ! 

The   Seasons  all, 
Throughout   their    annual    round; — the    watchful 

stars, 

That  sparkle  in  the  diadem   of  heaven, 
Whose  crystal  rays  descend  like  angels'  tears, 
Shed  o'er  frail,  erring  man  ; — the  gentle    Moon, 
Viirht's    Empress  fair,  whose  soft  and  snowy  beams 
Remove  the  veil  of  darknes  from  the  world, 
And    spread   delight    where     Gloom    her    curtains 

hung, 

Like  Hope's  reviving  rays,  when,  breaking  through 
The    portals  of  Despair,  they  ope  the  soul 
To  ecstacies  of  joy  ; — the  glorious  Sun, 
The   lamp    of  space,   the    almoner  of  lisjht 
And  life  to  worlds,  whose  radiance  melts  away 
The   Winter's  ice  and  spreads  upon  the  earth 
A  verdant  robe,  adorned  with  choicest  flowers 
Of  sweetest  fragrance  and  of  brightest  hue ; — 
All  Nature3?  works  unceasingly  proclaim, 
In  loftiest  strains  of  heaven-born  eloquence, 
The  all-pervading  power  and  love  of  HIM, 


28  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

Who  fashioned  them  ere  long  to  fade  and  die ; 
But  destined  MAN   for  immortality — 
Gave  him  a.  being  that  shall  never  end  ! 

The  mind — the  deathless  spirit — hath  a  life, 
Coeval   with  its  great,   Eternal  Source : 
And  when  the   everlasting  hills  shall   fall, 
Crumbling  to  naught — Niagara's  voice  be  hushed- 
The  Ocean's  roaring  cease,  its  surges  calmed 
In  waveless   solitude — the  world  be  sunk 
Deep  in   Annihilation's  gloomy  gulf — 
Yon  starry  gems,  the  blazonry  of  heaven, 
Be  gathered  as  a  scroll,  and  hurle*d  away 
With  meteor  swiftness  from  their  burning  thrones, 
Down  to  Oblivion's  dark  abyss — and    Time, 
The  tireless  voyager  of  ten  thousand  years, 
Be  wrecked,  at  last,  and  overwhelmed  amidst 
The   darkling  billows  of  Eternity  ! — 
O  man  ! — immortal  man  ! — thy  SOUL  shall  live, 
Existing  on — FOR  EVER  ! 

Hear  that  truth, 

In  the  soft  whisper  of  the  passing  breeze — 
The  echoing  mountains  and  resounding  dells — 
Behold  it  in  the  opening  life  of  Spring — 
See  it  in  the  calm  evening's  hallowed  hour, 
Engraven  on  the  beautiful   expanse 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELI'S.  29 

Above,  in  characters  of  living  light. 

The  voice  within  proclaims  it — and  without, 

Its  solemn  music   falls   upon  the  ear, 

Thrills    through   the    heart,    and    is   prolonged    in 

strains, 
From    Nature's   universal    symphony  ! 

VII. 

O  Mortal ! — frail  voyager  on   Life's  stormy  sea, 
Borne  swift  o'er  its  bosom  by  winds  wild  and  free  ; 
While  its  surges,  revolving  with  vehement  roar, 
Dash  loudly  and  fast   on   Eternity's    shore  ; 
Where  the  spirit,  surviving  the  wreck  of  the  tomb, 
Ascends  up  to   God,  and  receiveth  its  doom — 
List  thoti  to  the  teachings  of  Nature  around, 
Her  soft  silent  voice,  and  her  earth-shaking  sound. 
Thy  destiny  read  in  the  bright  Summer  flower, 
Which  blooms  in  its  beauty,  then  fades  in  an  hour: 
As    the    sere  leaves  of  Autumn    drop  down  from 

their  stem, 

Remember  that  thou,  too,  must  wither  like  them  ! 
When  ga*ing  on   Earth,  or  the  gay  orbs  of  Ni;>ht, 
Look  beyond  them,  and  up  to  the  Father  of  Light, 
Whose  nod  makes  a  world,  or  enwraps  it  in  flames, 
And  yield  Him  the  homage  his  sovereignty  claims. 


30  ELOQUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

So  then,  when  the  Summer  of  Life  fades  away, 
And  its  Autumn  is  bearing  thee  on  to  decay  ; 
And  the  Winter  of  Death,  with  its  cold,  searching 

blast, 

Advancing  in  terror,  o'ertakes  thee  at  last — 
Thou  canst  meet  him,  though  bringing  thy  funeral 

pall, 

And  gladly  depart,  at  his  summoning  call, — 
Sustained  by  the  hope  of  ascending  on  high, 
Where   Spring  never  ends,  and  where  flowers  never 

die, 

But  perennial   bloom  in  the  fields  of  the  blest, 
Where  the  pilgrim  is  safe  in  the  haven  of  rest — 
And  a  garland  of  glory  eternally  wear, 
IMMORTAL — UNFADING — IMMUTABLE  THERE  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 


GATHERED  from  the  fields  of  life. 
While  amidst  its  care  and  strife, 
Here  I  bring  my  little  flowers, 
Playmates  of  my  lonely  hours. 


PASSAGE   OF    THE   BED   SEA, 


He  turned  the  sea  into  dryland: 
They  went  through  the  flood  on  foot; 
There  did  we  rejoice  in  him. — Ps.  LXVI:  6. 


I. 


LAND  of  undying  fame  !   whose  honored  sires 
Spread  the  first  rays  that  Science  did  bestow  ; 

Thy  Sages  kindled  bright,  immortal  fires, 
Which  now  upon  their  sons  but  faintly  glow  : 
Yet  still,  as  then,  the   Nile's  deep  waters  flow, 

And  pour  their  fertilizing  streams  around  ; 

And-skies  unveiled  by  clouds  look  down  below, 

On  EGYPT'S  storied  realms,  so  long  renowned 

For  monuments  of  art,  for  wealth,  and  lore  profound. 
4 


34  PASSAGE  OF   THE   RED   SEA. 


II. 


Here  ruled,  of  old,  far  back  upon  the  tide 

Of  Time,  a  monarch  proud,  in  pomp  arrayed, 
Whose  heart  was  adamant,  whose  soul  was  pride, 

Whose    word   was   law,    while    menial    slaves 
obeyed, 

And  bowed  before  the  sceptre  which  he  swayed : 
And  long  beneath  that  tyrant's  cruel  hand, 

Was  ISRAEL'S  host  in  servile  bondage  laid, 
And  doomed  to  toil — forbid  to  leave  the  land — 
By  PHARAOH  made  to  serve,  to  yield  to  his  command. 

in. 

While  thus   weighed  down,  in  Slavery's  heavy 

chains, 

Their  cry  ascended  to  the  ALMIGHTY'S  throne — 
That  cry  was  heard —  and  over  Egypt's  plains, 
He  made  his  ever-righteous  judgments  known, 
To  bid  relent  the  monarch's   heart  of  stone, 
And  give  deliverance  to  those  oppressed : 

By  Him  was   MOSES  reared  to  lead  His  own, 
From  Pharaoh's  realms  to  CANAAN'S  land  of  rest, 
A  home  with  plenty  crowned,  a  home  with  freedom 
blest. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  35 


IV. 


But  naught,  as  yet,  had  moved  the  tyrant's  soul, 
Though  direful  plagues  were  o'er  hi*  kingdom 

sent, 

Which  showed  to  all  around  a  God's  control ; 
But  still  his  flinty  heart  did  not  relent: 
And  though  he  feigned  in  sorrow  to  repent, 
To   Israel  yet  their  freedom  he  denied, 

And  made  them  still  to  bow  with  firm  intent; 
And  oft,  with  impious  word  and  reckless  pride, 
The  HEBREWS'  mighty  GOD,  contemptuously  defied! 


The  monarch's  heart  was  filled  with  dread  at  last, 

For  Egypt's  FIRST-BORN,  in  a  fearful  night, 
Fell  by  the  withering  touch  of  DEATH'S  cold  blast, 

Which  swept  alonir,  unseen,  with  mortal  blight ! 

.Sj   saddening,    sickening,   was    the  mournful 

sight, 
.Such  piercing  cries  were  borne  on  every  gale, 

That  Pharaoh,  ere  the  Morning's  early  light, 
AVith  trembling  voice,  and  visage  wan  and  pale, 
l>;ide   Israel's  host  depart  from  Egypt's  fated  vale  ! 


36  PASSAGE  OF  THE  RED  SEA. 


VI. 


The  Hebrews  now  released,  with  joyful  heart, 

Bid  all  behind  farewell,  without  delay  ; 
As  from  Oppression's  land  they  soon  depart, 

And  toward  the  wilderness  pursue  their  way. 

While  Moses  leads  them  on  in  bright  array, 
JEHOVAH    hangs  a  cloud  aloft    in   air, 

To  guide  them  through  the  long  and  weary  day, 
And  o'er  them  spreads  at  night  his  radiance  fair, 

As  they  approach  the   SEA,  and  make  encampment 
there. 


VII. 


All  free  from   bondage  and  its  cruel  chains, 
A  song  of  gladness  flows  from  every  tongue. 

And  drooping  hearts  revive  to  hear  the  strains 
Resound  from  freedom's  harp  so  long  unstrun», 
As  here  they  briefly  rest  the  dales  among, 

While  on  each  side  majestic   mountains  rise, 
Where,  undisturbed,  the  forest  birds  had  sung. 

And  just  before  the   Sea  in  calmness  lies, 
Reflecting  from  its  depths   the   blue,   o'er-arching 
skies. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  37 

VIII. 

Ofttimes  we  find  our  scenes  of  brightest  joy 

O'ercast  with  sable  gloom  that  comes  between  ; 
For  earthly  bliss  is  not  without  alloy — 

As  storms  in   Summer  days  will  intervene, 
So  on   Life's  sea  are  angry  tempests  seen. 
Hark! — hark  !— through  Israel's  camp  the  notes 

of  fear 

Arise — they  see  the  spears  in  glittering  sheen, 
As  Pharaoh's  hosts  in  chariots  appear, 
While    frightful,    troublous    sounds    break    on    the 
startled  ear  ! 


Alas!  where  now  shall  Israel's  host  retreat? 

What  hope  is  left — ah  !  whither  shall  they  fly? 
Enclosed,  unarmed,  ihey  dread  the  foe  to  meet — 

Proud  Pharaoh's  marshaled  band  approaching 
nigh — 

Up  to  tl-e  heavens  they  send  a  piercing  cry, 
And  loudest  murmers  fill  each  fearful  breast, 

That  forth  from  Egypt  they  were  led  to  die. — 
Ii ut  Moses  speaks,  to  give  their  bosoms  rest, 
And,  standing  in  the^r  midst,  he   thus  the   throng 

addressed : 
4* 


38  PASSAGE  OF  THE  HEI)  SKA. 


Why  should  Israel  be  dismayed  1 

Why  this  sad  and  mournful  cry  ? 
God  hath  promised — He  will  aid — 
He  will  help  when  danger  's  nigh. 
Fear  ye  not  !    hut  trust  in  Heaven- 
Soon  deliverance  shall  be  given  ! 


Fear  ye  not !    but  peaceful  stand, 

Though  ye  see  your  foes  again  ; 
For  Jehovah's  powerful  hand 
Shall  His  people  still  sustain  : 

Look  to  Him — your  fathers'  guide — 
And  let  every  fear  subside  ! 


He,  whose  mighty,  wondrous  power 

Made  the  monarch  quail  with  dread, 
When  the  lonely,  midnight  hour 

Gazed  on  Egypt's  first-born — dead! — 
He  is  still  the  Hebrews'  friend — 
His  right  arm  shall  >et  defend  ! 


I'OEMS    BY    S.    I).    PHELPS.  39 


Though  before  the  Sea  is  near, 

On  each  side  the  mountains  rise, 
And  behind  your  foes  appear, 

Thick  as  stars  that  gem  the  skies — 
Fear  ye  not!   but  hope  in  God  — 
He  shall  break  the  Oppressor's  rod  ! 


Pharaoh's  hosts  we  see  to-day, 

But  shall  see  them  soon  no  more — 
God  will  make  for  us  a  way, 
Arid  in   safety'  lead  us  o'er — 

Let  your  fears  then  quickly  cease 
Trust  in  Him  and  rest  in  peace  ! 


Cod  thus  far  hath  Jed  us  on, 

And  will  yet  our  battles  fight — 
He  shall  bid  our  fears  begone — 
He  shall  whelm  our  foes  to-night ! 
Onward  !  then,  and  trust  in  Heaven- 
Soon  deliverance  shall  be  given  ! 


40  PASSAGE   OF   THE    UED   SEA. 


x. 


The  notes  of  murmuring  cease — and  every  eye 
Is  now  on  Moses  turned  with  silent  gaze, 

While  o'er  the  western  hills,  in  purple  sky, 
The  sinking  Sun  pours  forth  his  parting  rays, 
Which  play  around  the  landscape  he  surveys, 

And  glad  would  yet  in   Israel's  camp  abide  ; 
But  faint  and  fainter  still  becomes  liis  bla/e, 

Till  rising  cliffs  his  smiling  radiance  hide: — 
Thus  mortal  life  declines,  as  o'er  its  sea  we  glide  ! 


'T  is  early  Twilight's  calm  and  loveliest  hour, 

A  peaceful  stillness  broods  o'er  sea  and  land  ; 
No  threatening  clouds  in  gloomy  darkness  lower, 
But  solemn  silence  reigns  at  God's  command: 
The    wavering    Hebrews    now    approach    the 

strand, 
Where    Moses  halts,  and,  o'er  the  tranquil  tide, 

His  mystic  rod  outstretching  in  his  hand, 
Whose  potent  virtues  he  so  oft  had  tried, 
Now   smites  the  crystal   Sea,   whose  waters  quick 
divide  ! 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PIIELTS.  41 


XII. 


Loud  roar  the  surges  of  the  opening  deep, 
As  wave  on  wave  successively  is  rolled, 

And  billows  still  on  other  billows  heap, 
Until  like  walls  they  rise  in  grandeur  bold, 
And  far  beneath  the  solid  earth  unfold  ! 

Here   Moses  enters  first,  with  footsteps  strong, 
As  tlio^c  lie  leads  the  wondrous  scene  behold  ; 

But  soon,  at  his  command,  the  astonished  throng, 
With    tremb  in»    steps   advance,     and    urge    their 
course  along. 

XIII. 

The  Hebrews  still  pursue  their  onward  way, 
Though   round  them  hangs  the  dusky  veil  o* 

n  ght : 

Amidst  the  gloom  there  shines  a  heavenly  ray, 
And  darknes  flies  before  its  guiding  light, 
Which  sheds  o'er  Israel's  host  a  halo  bright, 
And  bids  no  anxious  fears  their  minds  annoy, 

AVhile  on  they  go,  and  view  the  cheering  sight, 
As  gladsome  songs  their  faltering  tongues  employ, 
Until   they   reach  the    shore,   with  thankful  hearts 
of  joy. 


42  PASSAGE   OF  THE  RED   SEA. 


Jehovah  thus  made  known  his  might  to  save ; 
And  the  memento  of  his  wondrous  power, 
That  brought  the  host  of  Israel  through  the  wave, 
His  people  oft  inspired  in  danger's  hour, 
And  buoyed  them  up  when  stormy  clouds  did 

lower. 

'T  is  midnight  now — all  nature  's  calm  and  still — 
And  brightly  beam  the  stars  from  heaven's  high 

tower, 

While  Pharaoh's  voice  the  darkened  air  doth  fill, 
Bidding  his  troops  go  on,  nor  fear  foreboding  ill ! 

xv. 

The  monarch's  stern  behest  is  soon  obeyed, 
As  horsemen  now  the  opening  path  descend, 

With  burnished  spears,  in  war-like  robes  arrayed, 
Eager  and  fierce  with  Israel  to  contend  : 
And  with  the  daring  troops  the  chariots  blend, 

As  Pharaoh  rides  along,  in  lordly  pride, 

Nor  deems  that  direful  judgments  may  impend  ; 

But  fearless  still  of  HIM — the   Hebrews'  guide — 
He  leads  his  bannered  hosts  within  the  towering 
tide  ! 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  43 


But  ah  !    an  angry  storm  is  gathering  fast,-' 
And  sombre  clouds  have  all  the  sky  o'erspread, 

The  floods  in  torrents  pour,  with  furious  blast — 
The  lightning  darts  in  flaming  streams  of  red, 
And  heaviest  thunders  roll  with  awful  dread! 

The  Sea  is  closed  with  loud,  tremendous  roar  ! 
A  piercing  shriek  is  heard,  ere  life  had  fled — 

But  soon  'tis  hushed — the  storm  is  quickly  o'er, 
And  Egypt's  marshaled  pride  has  sunk  to  rise  no 
more  ! 

xvn. 

All  !  fearful  vengeance  from  the  mightiest  hand  ! 

Amazed,  the   Hebrews  view  the  scene  of  woe, 
While  on  the  rising  shore  they  silent  stand, 

And  look  upon  the  troubled   Sea  below, 

Where  sullen  wrath  descended  on  their  foe  ! 
But  soon  they  turn  away  their  wondering  gaze, 

As  joy  again  through  every  heart  doth  flow — 
To    Heaven  their  grateful  orisons  they  raise  ; 
And  now,  with  harp  attuned,  pour  forth  a  song  of 
praise. 


44  PASSAGE  OF  THE  RED  SEA. 


To  the  LORD,  our  Protector, 

We  joyfully  sing — 
All   praise   to  Jehovah, 

Our  conquering  King ! 
He   hath  gloriously  triumphed, 

And  Israel   is  free  ! 
But  the  hosts  of  proud   Pharaoh 

Are  whelmed  in  the  Sea ! 


When   all   were  affrighted — 

Encompassed   by  foes, 
The  waters   He   sundered — 

Like  walls  they  arose  ! 
By   His  power  He  hath  led   us 

All  safe   through  the   tide, 
While  His  foes  He  hath  vanquished, 

And   humbled  their  pride  ! 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS. 


45 


Great  God  of  our  fathers, 

We  bow  at  thy  throne, 
For  thy  name  is  exalted — 

Thy  glory  is  known  : 
Our  foes  thou  hast  conquered — 

They  sunk  'neath  thy  frown, 
When  Heaven's  loud  thunders, 

In  terror,  came  down  ! 


To  the  bright  land  of  promise, 

He  '11  guide,  as  we  go, 
Where  the  purest  of  pleasures 

Unceasingly  flow  : 
As  the  Sun  scatters  darkness 

From  earth's  wide  expanse, 
So  the  foe  of  the  Hebrews 

Shall  flee  at  His  glance  ! 
5 


46  PASSAGE  OF  THE  RED   SEA. 


Thou  hast  brought  us  from  Egypt, 

Thine  arm  hath  sustained — 
All  dangers  have  vanished — 

The  victory  's  gained  : 
But  the  hosts  of  the  Foeraan 

Repose  in  Death's  sleep — 
They  have  sunk,  with  their  chariots, 

Like  lead,  in  the  deep  ! 


Great,  great,  is  Jehovah — 
Earth  quails  at  His  nod  ; 

There  are  none  that  are  like  Hun- 
Like   Israel's    God  : 

All    others    shall    perish — 
Their  glory  is  vain ; 

But  the  God  of  the   Hebrews 
For  ever  shall  reign  ! 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  47 

XVIII. 

The  music  died  away  as  ceased  the  song, 

And  all  were  wrapt  in  silent  joy  profound, 
Save  some  who  fain  would  yet  the  notes  prolong, 
As  echoing  hills  and  groves  that  lay  around, 
Returned  to  them  again  the  pleasing  sound. 
The   Hebrews  now  begin  their  steps  anew, 
Though   Night's  dim  shadowings  o'erveil    the 

ground  ; 

But  soon,  as  on  their  way  they  still  pursue, 
Far  in  the  glimmering  east,   the  early  dawn  they 
view. 

XIX. 

The  orient  Morn  now  glows  with  brighter  rayt 
And  darkness  fades  before  its  crescent  light, 
Till   soon  appears  the  ruler  of  the  day, 
Shedding  on  all  around  effulgence  bright, 
While   Israel  joys  to  meet  the  welcome  sight : 
Still  o'er  the   RED  SEA  hangs  a  sable  gloom, 
Where  Pharaoh's  hosts,  o'erwhelmed  in  dismal 

night, 

Found  far  within  its  depths  a  watery  tomb, 
When   vengeance  from  on  high,   came  down  with 
awful  doom  ! 


48  PASSAGE  OF  THE  RED  SEA. 


XX. 


Mysterious  Power  !  to  whom  how  weak  is  man  ! 

How  vain  for  monarchs  proud  with  Him  to  vie, 

Whose   piercing   glance  the   heavens   and  earth 

doth  scan ; 

Who  hung  aloft  the  rolling  orbs  on  high, 
And  spread  the  gorgeous  drapery  of  the  sky  ; 
Whose  mighty  arm  has  broke  the  tyrant's  rod, 
And  'midst  the  waters  made  a  pathway  dry. 
Where  Israel's  guarded  host  in  safety  trod  : — 
All  great  and  glorious  name — ETERNAL,  SOVEREIGN 
GOD! 


49 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

How  blest   the  glad   hours   that  were   spent  in  my 

childhood, 

While  roaming  with  joy  in  the  warm  summer  air, 
l»v  the   mead,  and  the  fountain,   the   hillock,  and 

wild-wood, 
When  youthful  companions  attended  me  there. 

The  scenes  of  my  childhood  I  fondly  remember, 
When  summer,  and  winter,  and  day  after  day, 

We  hasted  to  school,  'mid  the  winds  of  December, 
( )r  rambled  among  the  wild  flowerets  of  May. 

How  cheerful  the  evenings  when  sitting  together, 

With  brothers,  and  sisters,  and  parents  so  dear — 
We  told  pleasing  tales  while  the  cold  wintry  weather 

Beat  loud  on  the  windows,  and  snow  filled  the  air. 

5* 


50         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

How  oft,  when  alone,  I  recall  recollections 
Of  happier  scenes  in  my  earliest  day — 

Of  social  enjoyments  with  friends  and  connexions, 
Now  sleeping  in  silence,   or  far,  far  away. 

Those  sweet  sunny  seasons,  oh,  who  will  restore  me? 

Alas,  for  their  absence — they  ne'er  will  return  : 
Though  long  since  departed,  they  seem  still  before 
me, 

And  yet  shall  remain  in  fond    Memory's  urn. 


51 


ODE  FOR  THE  FOURTH  OF  JULY,  1856, 

HAIL,  thou  great  and  glorious  day  ! 
Hail,  the  sons  of  Freedom  say, 
Hail,  says   Echo,  far  away, 

O'er  the  hills  and  dales  : 
Hail,  Columbia — peaceful  clime — 
Where,   in   majesty   sublime, 
Undecayed  by  conquering  Time, 

Liberty   prevails  ! 

Sixty  years  have  rolled  away, 
Since  the  blest,  triumphant  day, 
We  were  made,  we  're  proud  to  say, 

Independent — free  ! 
Freedom's  glorious  banner  waves 
O'er  us  still — above  the  graves, 
Where  now  sleep  the  patriot  braves — 

Foes  to   Tyranny  ! 


52         ODE  FOR  THE  FOURTH  OF  JTLY. 

Freemen  !  ye  who  love  your  land, 
Freemen  !  ye  who  form  this  band, 
For  your  cherished  Country  stand, 

Till  your  latest  hour  : 
Truth  and  right  for  ever  claim — 
Let  no  Tyrant  proud  defame 
Freedom's  land  and  sacred  name, 

Though  he  come  with  power  ! 

By  our  blood-bought  Liberty — 
By  our  institutions,  free — 
We  will  never  bow  the  knee 

To  a  monarch's  word  : 
No  ! — our  Flag  shall  always  swing, 
Guarded  by  our  Heavenly  Ring; 
And  for  this  we  '11  ever  sing 

Praises  to  the  LORD  ! 


53 


TO   A   FRIEND   AT  PARTING. 

How  transient  are  all  earthly  things, 

I  low  soon  their  joys  decay  ; 
The  pleasures  every  object  brings, 

Must  die,  and  fade  away : 
The  friends  we  love,  ourselves  and  all, 

Though  now  in  youthful  bloom, 
To  ruthless  death,  will  victims  fall. 

And  sink  within  the  tomb. 

But  far  from  this  low  vale  of  tears, 

In  fairer  climes  on  high, 
Beyond  those  bright,  celestial  spheres, 

That  sparkle  in  the  sky, — 
Are  radiant  scenes  of  purest  joy, 

Devoid  of  every  care  ; 
For  happiness,  without  alloy, 

Eternullv  is  there, 


54  TO  A  FRIEND  AT  PARTING. 

No  dire  disease,  nor  racking  pains, 

Nor  sorrows  there  are  found  : 
And  Death,  on  those  delightful  plains, 

His  note  shall  never  sound. 
Sweet  place  of  rest — no  troubles  there, 

To  mar  perpetual  peace  ; 
How  happy  then  't  will  be  to  share 

Such  pure,  immortal  bliss. 

My  friend,  I  know  't  is  hard  to  part, 

And  far   away  to  rove, 
From  that  dear  spot  where  first  the  heart 

Has  felt  a  parent's  love — 
To  leave  them  all,  our  early  friends, 

We   fondly  love  so  well, 
And  find  a  home  in  distant  lands, 

With  strangers  there  to  dwell. 

When  far  away  from  those  you  love, 

You  cast  a  look  behind, 
Then  look  once  more — to  HIM  above — 

A  lasting  FRIEND  you  'II  find  : 
And  through  this  life's  uneven  way, 

That  Friend  your  steps  will  guide, 
While   hope  shall  point  to  endless  day, 

Beyond  time's  rolling  tide. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    rilELPS. 

We  part,  my  friend,  farewell — farewell ! 

And  while  on  earth  you  stay, 
May  joy  and  peace  each  cloud  dispel, 

That  hovers  o'er  thy  way  : 
And  when  the  hour  of  death  shall  come, 

And  life's  last  breath  be  given, 
May  angels  bear  thy  spirit  home, 

To  dwell  with  saints  in  heaven. 


56 


EVENING, 

I  LOVE  the  hour  when  evening  spreads 
Her  dusky  mantle  o'er  the  land, 

And  the  bright  moon  her  radiance  sheds, 
Attended  by  the  heavenly  band. 

I  love  to  view  the  setting  sun 

Sink  slowly  down  the  the  western  fields, 
For  now  the  workman's  task  is  done, 

And  night  to  him  its  solace  yields. 

1  love  to  sit  before  the  fire, 

With  brothers,  sisters,  parents  dear  ; 

And  from  my  father's  aged  sire, 
Some  pleasing  tale  of  old  to  hear. 

I  love  to  join  with  social  friends, 

When  evening  shades  have  stole  apace, 

Where  joy  each  peaceful  scene  attends, 
Where  pleasure  dwells  on  every  face. 


57 


MY    EO ME, 

Mir  HOME  !  what  a  treasure  ! 

How  clear  to  my  heart — 
How  rich  is  the    pleasure, 

Thy  name  doth  impart ! 
IVo  place  can  excel  thee — 

No  spot  on  the  earth, 
So  sweet  and  so  pleasant, 

As  that  of  my  birth  ! 

The  days  of  my  childhood 
I   spent  'neath  thy  shade, 

And  roved  in  the  wild-wood, 
And  skipped  in  the  glade, 

With  youthful  companions, 
So  blithesome  and  gay, 

While  happy  and  joyous, 

The  time  rolled  away ! 
6 


58  MY    HOME. 

I    ne'er  shall  forget  thee, 

Blest  home  of  my  heart, 
Though  far  from  thy  precincts 

I  'm  doomed  to  depart ; 
The  fond  recollections, 

Thou  bringest   to  me, 
Of  endearing   affections, 

Shall  bind  me  to  thee  ! 


WINTER  EVENING   SONG, 

WINTER'S  winds  are  rudely  stealing 
O'er  the  mountain,  mead,  and  dale ; 

Falling  flakes   are  fast  concealing 
Nature's  form  beneath  a  veil. 

Cold  and  sad,  and  wet,  and  weary, 
Lone,  the  traveler  wends  his  way  ; 

Night  to  him  is  long  and  dreary, 
While  he  looks  for  dawning  day. 

Winter !    all  thy  smiles  are  freezing — 
Pass  thee,  pass  thee  quick  away ; 

Let  the  season,  mild  and  pleasing, 
Bear  its  kind  and  gentle  sway. 

Beautiful  were  modest  flowers, 

Blooming  'neath  the  sky  of  Spring — 

Glad  we  roved  in   Summer's  bowers, 
Lingering  round  each  lovely  thing. 


60  WINTER  EVENING  SONG. 

But  the  rose  has  withered — faded, 

Not  a  floral  leaf  remains 
In  the  cherished  wreath  we  braided — 

Winter  now  imperial  reigns. 

Come  !    around  the  fire-side  cluster, 
Pile  the  fuel  on  the  grate — 

Let  the  tempest  howl  and  bluster, 
While  we  sing  with  heart  elate. 

Winter  !    soon  thy  storms  shall  vanish, 
Soon  shall  end  thy  cold.st  night ; 

Sol  thy  snowy  robes  shall  bai.ish — 
Spread  thy  p.nions  for  the  flight ! 


fil 


INTRODUCTION   TO   AN   ALBUM. 

"Vera  nniicitia  est  sempiterna." 

As  FAIREST  flowers  of  earth  will  fade  away, 
Before  remorseless  Time's  tyrannic  sway, 
•So  those  we  love  may  fall  in  youtliful  bloom, 
And  early  rest  within  the  darkened  tomb. 

Vet  Friendship  true  shall  never  fade  nor  die, 
But  bloom  perennial  in  the  upper  sky  ; 
Kindled  by  an  immortal  touch,  its  fire 
Shall  brighter  glow  when  earthly  ties  expire. 

Sweet  are  the  cheering  beams  of  Friendship  pure, 
That  light  our  path  while  life  may  here  endure ; 
And  shed  their  lovely  radiance  on  the  soul, 

Beyond  the  reach  of  change,  or  time's  control. 
G* 


6'J  INTRODUCTION  TO  AN  ALBUM. 

The  ALBUM'S  page  is  filed  to  receive 
The  choicest  garland  that  a  friend  may  weave  ; 
And,  as  the  years  depart  on  Time's  fleet  wing, 
Remembrance  oft  around  that  friend  shall  cling. 

Go  forth,  FAIII  BOOK,  emblem  of  virtue,  truth, 
And  let  the  friendly  thoughts  that  glow  in  youth, 
Be  here  recorded,  free  from  sinful  mirth, 
To  cheer  life's  chequered  pilgrimage  on  earth. 

Each  coronal  entwined,  or  gathered  flower 
Should  come  from  Poesy's  enchanting  bower, 
Fraught  with  chaste  sentiments  by  Friendship  fired, 
And  those  by  pure  Religion's  muse  inspired, 

Then,  though  these  friends  may  all  be  far  away, 
Or  silent  sleep  beneath  the  cold,  damp  clay, 
Their  virtues,  names,  and  Friendship  here  shall  last, 
And  long  remain  mementoes  of  the  past. 


63 


"PRAY   WITHOUT   CEASING." 

WHEN  the  early  dawn  of  the  morning  breaks, 

Away  o'er  the  eastern  hills  ; 
Ere  the  sunbeams  play  on  the  silvery  lakes, 

Or  gleam  on  the  purling  rills, 
From  the  couch  of  sleep  and  repose  arise, 

For  now  thou  art  free  from  care ; 
And  lift  up  thy  thoughts  to  the  distant  skies, 

While  bowed  iu  the  place  of  prayer. 

When  the  sun  hath  reached  its  meridian  height, 

And  pours  over  all  his  rays  ; 
And  revives  the  earth  willi  his  golden  light, 

Inspiring  the  heart  with  praise  ; 
From  the  scenes  of  toil  and  the  world  retire, 

Dismiss  every  earthly  care  ; 
And  present  thy  thanks  and  the  pure  desire, 

To  Him  who  will  hear  thy  prayer. 


1  "  PRAY   WITHOUT    CEASING." 

When  the  king  of  day,  in  the  purple  west, 

Sinks  calmly  down  in  peace  ; 
And  nature  is  hushed  in  its  silent  rest, 

And  toils  of  the  day  shall  cease  ; 
As  the  mind  reflects  on  the  time  that 's  flown, 

On  God's  ever  watchful  care  ; 
Then  humbly  bow  at  his  holy  throne, 

And  offer  the  the  evening  prayer. 

And  while  life  shall  last  never  cease  to  pray, 

But  look  to  the  Source  of  power, 
At  the  morning's  dawn,  and  at  noon  of  day, 

And  then  at  the  evening  hour  : 
And  in  every  scene,  whether  good  or  ill, 

That  thou  mays't  be  called  to  share, 
Forget  not  to  ask  thy  Creator  still, 

To  hear  and  to  answer  prayer. 


65 


WHY   DO  NT'T   HE    COME?" 


tVGGESTED    BY   A    PICTURE    REPRESENTING    A    YOUNG    LADT    AT 
THK    WINDOW   WATCHING   FOR   HER   LOVER. 


WHY  do  n't  he  come — why  do  n't  he  come  ? 

Full  many  an  hour  hath  fled, 
And  I  alone  have  silent  watched, 

To  listen  to  his  tread, 
While  tardy  moments  pass  along, 

And  yet  he  do  n't  appear, 
Nor  does  the  sound  of  footsteps  break 

Upon  my  watchful  ear ; 
Nor  do  I  see  his  noble   form — 

His  voice  to  me  is  dumb — 
That  voice  which  told  the  tale  of  love- — 

Alas  !  why  do  n't  he  come  1 


66  "WIIVDON'T  HE  COME?" 

Why  do  n't  he  come — why  don't  he  come  ? 

Why  should  he  thus  delay, 
And  break  the  promise  which  he  made, 

When  last  he  went  away  1 
Has  he  forgot  my  faithful  words — > 

The  pledges  which  he  gave — 
Have  they  so  soon  been  buried  deep 

Within   oblivion's   grave  ? 
Are   his   affections  now   so   cold, 

That  they  his  heart  benumb? 
It  can't  be  so — it  can't  be  so — 

But  yet — why  do  n't  he  come  ? 


TttE  BACHELOR'S  SOLILOQUY. 

How  changed  the  scene  !    When  I  was  young, 
With  friends  I  sported,  laughed,  and  sung, 

And  pleasure  was  my  lot : 
All  then  was  joy,  devoid  of  care, 
And  I  was  first  among  the  fair ; 

But  now  I  am  forgot. 

My  youthful  days  are  past  and  gone, 
And  age  is  slily  creeping   on, 

With  slow  but  steady  pace  : 
T  feel  its  weight  from  day  to  day — 
Alas !    my   hair  is  turning  grey, 

And  wrinkled  is  my  face. 

I  have  no  joys  at  night  or  morn— 
The  ladies  now  my  person  scorn, 

And  spurn  me  from  their  door : 
Ah  !    sad  indeed   to  come  to  this — 
No  pleasure  now  nor  scenes  of  bliss 

Are  left  for  me  in  store. 


63  THE  BACHELOR'S  SOLILOQUY. 

My  days  must  all  be  spent  alone, 
For  1  am  left  to  sigh  and  groan  — 

No  fond  and  loving  wife, 
To  soothe  my  fast  declining  years, 
To  share  my  grief  and  calm  my  fears, 

Upon  the  sea  of  life. 

When  to  the  grave  my  body  's  borne, 
There  will  be  none  for  me  to  mourn — 

To  guard  my  sepulchre  ; 
But  should  some  pass  that  lonely  way, 
They  '11  view  my  stone  and  sneering  say, 

"  There  lies  a  BACHELOR." 


09 


TO  A  YOUNG  LADY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER 
MOTHER. 

WEEP  not  for  thy  mother,  who  's  gone  to  the  tomb, 

Though  sorrow  and  sadness  around  tliec  are  cast, 

And  the  present  may  seem  to  be  shrouded  in  gloom, 

"When  turning  thy  thoughts  to  the  scenes  of  the 

past : 

Still  let  not  thy  tears  the  deep  anguish  reveal, 
That  dwells  in  thy  heart,  and  has  caused  thee  to 

mourn, 
Though  a  breach  has  been  made  that  time  never  can 

heal, 
And  afflictions  so  grievous  seem  hard  to  be  borne. 

Weep  not  for  thy  mother — for  tears  are  all  vain — 
They  cannot  recall  the  pure  spirit  that 's  gone, 
Though  the  tenderest  tie  is  now  severed  in  twain, 

That  bound  you  together  in  union  as  one — 

7 


70  TO    A    YOUNG    LADY,    ETC. 

They  cannot  return  the  rich  boon  you  enjoyed — 
The  friend  that  you  mourn  they  can  never  restore ; 

Oh,  cease  then  to  weep,  though  you  see  such  a  void, 
And  so  heavy  the  loss  you  are  called  to  deplore. 

Weep  not  for  thy  mother — for  her  who  has  left 
The  sorrows  of  earth,  for  enjoyments  above  ; 

Although  thou  art  now  of  a  parent  bereft, 

Who  lonsr  had  watched  o'er  thec  in  fondness  and 

O 

love — 
Though  sad  be  the  thought  that  no  longer  on  earth, 

Thy  mother  will  meet  with  her  children  so  dear ; 
And  ne'er  again  join  you  around  the  glad  hearth, 

And  no  more  in  the  family  circle  appear. 

Weep  not  for  thy  mother — she  's  gone  to  her  rest — 

No  sighing,  nor  sickness,  nor  troubles  are  there  ; 
But  fruition  of  bliss,  in  the  land  of  the  blest — 

In  the  mansions  the  Saviour  hath  gone  to  prepare. 
Rejoice  in  the  hope  that  you  '11  meet  her  again — 

If  faithful  to  Him  who  hath  promised  reward — 
And  partake  of  the  joys  that  forever  remain, 

Where  all  are  now  blest  who  have  died  in  the 
Lord. 


71 


LET   THERE   BE   LIGHT," 


And  God  said,  Let  there  be  light:    and  there  was  light. 


THE  earth  was  wrapt  in  gloom  profound, 
And  o'er  the  whole  creation  round, 

Hung  sable  night, 

Till  HE,  by  whom  all  things  were  made, 
Spake,  as  his  glance  the  world  surveyed, 

"  Let  there  be  light." 
Then  darkness  rolled  in  clouds  away — 
At  once  appeared  the  new-born  day, 

In  splendor  bright. 
Ere  Ifing  the  sun  his   course  began, 
And  moon,  with  all  the  heavenly  van — 

"  And  there  was  light." 


72  "LET  THERE  BE  LIGHT." 

From  God  had  wandered  all  mankind, 
And  moral  darkness  veiled  each  mind, 

In  raylcss  night. 

No  aid  could  human  skill  devise — 
Spake  then  Jehovah  from  the  skies, 

"  Let  there  be  light." 
The  Sun  of  Righteousness  arose — 
The  SAVIOUR  triumphed  o'er  his  foes, 

In  glorious  might  ! 
The  blessed  Gospel's  joyful  sound 
Echoed   Judea's  plajns  around — 

"  And  there  was  light." 

While  journeying  o'er  life's  darksome  way 
I  sought,  but  found  no  guiding  ray — 

'T  was  gloom  and  night. 
Again  I  sought,  and  humbly  prayed — 
The  Saviour  heard,  and  sweetly  said, 

"  Let  there  be  light." 
My  sorrows  fled — my  fears  were  gone. 
And  Bethlehem's  Star  in  beauty  shone — 

Unclouded — bright. 
The  love  of  God  then  rilled  my  soul, 
And  Hope  appeared  to  bear  control — 

"And  there  was  li<{ht." 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PIIELPS.  73 

Christians  !  extend  a  pitying  eye, 
To  heathen  lands,  where  millions  lie, 

In  pagan  night. 

Oh,  send  the  sacred  Word  abroad, 
Till  savage  men  shall  worship  God — 

"  Let  there  be  light." 
The  Saviour's  banner  is  unfurled — 
Then  spread  it  o'er  a  fallen  world, 

Till  all  unite, 

To  sing  the  great  Redeemer's  name, 
And  Sovereign  of  the  world   proclaim, 

The  GOD  of  LIGHT  ! 


THE   WIDOW'S  SON  RESTORED  TO  LIFE. 

Luke  vii.    11 — 17 

IT  was  a  scene  of  mourning.     Slow  and  sad 
The  lone  procession  moved  in  sorrow  on, 
Bearing  a  youth,  a  mother's  hope  and  stay, 
Her  only  son  she  dearly,  fondly  loved. 
Fast  did  the  tears  steal  down  her  care-worn  checks  ; 
With  deepest  sorrow  too,  her  heart  was  filled, 
For  soon  she  thought  the  dark  and  silent  grave 
Would  to  its  cold  einhrace  receive  her  child  ; 
And  she  a  lorn,  afflicted  widow  left, 
In  the  wide  world  alone,  without  a  friend  ; 
For  the  kind  partner  of  her  younger  years 
Was  sleeping  in  the  tomb. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  75 

But  there  are  times, 

In  our  lone,  gloomy  pilgrimage  on  earth, 
When  stern  misfortune  seems  to  weigh  us  down, 
When  all  behind,  and  all  before  is  dark, 
And  scarce  one  glimmering  ray  of  hope  appears, — 
That,  even  then,   our  path  is  lighted  up, 
And  suddenly  our  sorrow  's  turned  to  joy. 
The  sable  gloom  that  round  us  hung  departs, 
And  smiling  gladness  sheds  her  cheering  beams, 
As  shines  the  sun,  the  glorious  lamp  of  space, 
When  angry  storms  and  tempests  cease  to  rage, 
And  darksome  clouds  disperse. 

The  mourning  throng, 

With  measured  tread,  now  sought  the  burial-place; 
But  on  their  \\ay  they  met  a  pilgrim  band, — 
JESUS  and  his  disciples. — And  the  Lord, 
As  he  beheld  the  widow's  tears,  and  heard 
Her  sighs,  and  knew  the  anguish  of  her  heart, 
Was  moved  with  pity,  and  he  said,  "  Weep  not." 
The  bier,  on  which  the  dead  was  borne  along, 
He  then  approached,  and  laid  thereon  his  hand  : 
The  bearer's,  halting,  stood   in  mute  suspense, 
And  gazed  on  Jesus  as  he  spake,  "  Young  man, 
I  say  to  thee,  arise  /" 


76         THE  WIDOW'S  SON  RESTORED  TO  LIFE. 

How  changed  the  scene  ! 

The  Saviour's  voice  hath  reached  the  ears  of  him 
Who  slept  in  Death's  embrace, — and  life  returns ! 
He  rises  up  and  cheers  them  with  his  words, 
And  Jesus  leads  him  to  his  mother's  arms. 
Then  all  her  gloomy  thoughts  and  feelings  fled  : 
She  wiped  the  falling  tear  away,  and  ceased 
To  mourn  and  weep,  or  only  wept  for  joy. 
The  widow  and  her  son,  with  all  the   throng, 
Now  turned,  and  glad  their  homeward  way  pursued, 
With  lightsome  footsteps  and  with  joyous  hearts, 
Praising  the  LORD  whose  power  had  raised  the  dead ! 


7? 


MUTABILITY,— A  FRAGMENT, 

CHANGE  and  decay  are  stamped  on  all  below  ! 

Naught  can  escape  the  wasting  hand  of  time  ; 
And  naught  of  earth  survive  Death's  certain  blow  : 

Man's  proudest  works,  so  gorgeous  and  sublime, 

Which  stand  as  monuments  in  every  clime, 
Must  totter — fall — and  crumble  to  decay, 

While  years  depart  and  rolling  planets  chime  : — 
\s  perish  flowers  that  bloom  in  Summer's  day, 
.•»o  all  that 's  beautiful  on   earth  must  fade  away  ! 

nroll  the  records  of  the  mouldering  past — 
Survey  with  wondering  gaze  the  scenes  of  yore, 

And  one  broad  look  o'er  Earth's  wide  empire  cast, 
And  view  the  stage  of  life — the  fields  of  gore — 
Heroes  and  kings,  and  sages  versed  in  lore — 

The  great  and   good — ambitious   and  the  brave  ; 
And  all   wlio  've  dwelt  on  this  terrestrial  shore — 

^Vhere  are  they  now— the  tyrant  and   the  slave? — 

(•o  ask  the  victor  Death — go  ask  the  boasting  Grave! 


78 


SONG   OF   THE   PEASANT   GIRL. 

I  'D  RATHER  be  a  Peasant  Girl,  and  in  a  cottage 

dwell, 
Than  in  the  crowded  city  live,  and  be  its  proudest 

belle  ; 
For   better  far   I   love   to  roam,   amidst  the   rural 

fields, 
Where  Nature  smiles  on  all  around,  and   sweetest 

pleasure  yields, 
Than  o'er  a  marble  pavement  walk,  where  all  is 

noise  and  din, 
Where    lofty  walls   obscure   the  sun,  nor  let   the 

zephyrs  in — 
The  balmy  zephyrs,  soft  and  bland,  which  cool  the 

sultry  hours, 
And  waft  upon  their  pinions  light  the  fragrance  of 

the  flowers. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  70 

I  'd  rather  be  a   Peasant  Girl,  and  live  where  all 

is  glad, 
Thau   be  the  gayest  city  miss,  in  royal  splendor 

clad  ; 
For  neither  pride,  nor  countless  wealth,  though  all 

for  joy  be  spent, 
Can  fill  the   mind   with  happiness,   and   give  that 

sxveet  content, 
Which  those  receive  who  dwell   among  the  lovely 

dales  and  hills — 
Who  listen  to  the  song  of  birds,  and  music  of  the 

rills  ; 
And  gaze  upon  the  silvery  moon,    and  twinkling 

orbs  of  night ; 
And  view  the  verdant  landscape  o'er,  with  every 

prospect  bright. 

Oh,  yes,  I  'd  be  a  Peasant  Girl,  and  have  a  rural 

home, 
Where  flowers   of  Spring  should   early  rise,   and 

Summer  roses  bloom : 
I  'd  gather  rich  and  golden  fruits,  when  Autumn 

crowns  the  year  ; 
And  meet  around  the  joyful  hearth,  when  wintry 

storms  appear. 


80  SONG  OP  THE  PEASANT  GIRL. 

And  thus  my  earthly  days  should  pass,  in  happiness 

and  love, 
Until  my   spirit  wing  its  flight  to  brighter  realms 

above  ; 
Then  mourning  friends  would  lay  me  down,  within 

the  peaceful  grave, 
And  plant  the  weeping  willow  there,  which  o'er  my 

head  should  wave. 


81 


MUSIC. 

WRITTEN    IN    THE    ALBUM    OF    A    BEAUTIFUL    SINGER. 

THERE  is  a  charm  in  music's  voice, 
That  wakes  the  feelings  of  the  soul, 

And  kindly  bids  the  heart  rejoice, 
And  yield  to  rapture's  sweet  control. 

When  morning  lights  the  orient  sky, 
And  clouds  disperse  and  leave  it  clear, 

And  scenes  of  beauty  meet  the  eye — 
Glad  music's  notes  we  love  to  hear. 

When  Sol  has  reached  meridian  height, 

We  rest  from  toil  and  care  awhile, 
As  music's  voices,  deep  and  light, 

The  swiftly  passing  hours  beguile. 

8 


82  MUSIC. 

And  when  the  sun,  at  evening's  hour, 
Has  sunk  adown  the  purple  \vest, 

We  feel  the  spell  of  music's  power, 
That  lulls  us  calmly  into  rest. 

When  clouds  of  darkness  gather  round 
Our  pathway  through  this  vale  of  tears, 

Sweet  music's  soul-reviving  sound 
Dispels  the  gloom,  and  light  appears. 

We  list  with  joy  to  music's  strains, 

When  soft  she  pours  the  tones  of  love ; 

And  raise  our  thoughts  to  heavenly  plains, 
And   antedate  the  bliss  above. 

Long,  ROSA,  may  thy  tuneful  voice, 
That  falls  so  sweetly  on  the  ear, 

Bid  many  a  trembling  heart  rejoice, 
And  dry  the  fount  of  sorrow's  tear. 

When  here  thy  voice  no  more  inspires 
The  blest  Redeemer's  pilgrim  band, 

Oh,  may  it  join  the  angel  choirs, 
And  echo  through  the  spirit  land. 


S3. 


TO   MARY. 

DEAR  LADY,  moved  by  thy  desire, 
Once  more  I  tune  my  humble  lyre, 

A  strain  for  thee  to  sing  : 
Xo  gorgeous  chaplct  do  I  wreath, 
Only  a  wish  sincere  I  breathe — 

Such  is  the  boon   I  bring. 

May  friends  be  thine,  whose  friendship  true 
Will  cheer  life's  darksome  journey  through, 

And  smooth  its  rugged  path : 
True  friends  indeed,  that  ne'er  will  frown, 
Should  stern  misfortune  bear  thee  down, 

But  faithful  be  till  death. 

May  health  be  thine,  and  prosperous  days — 
May  gladness  smile  in  all  thy  ways, 

*  And  all  thy  ways  be  peace  : 
May  ycu  no  grief  nor  sorrow  share, 
Nor  days  of  darkness  and  despair, 
As  passing  years  increase. 


84  TO    MARV. 

May  hope  be  thine — the  Christian's  hope — 
For  this  will  bear  the  spirit  up, 

And  point  beyond  the  sky  : 
And,  as  you  sail  o'er  life's  rough  tide, 
May  Bethlehem's  Star  be  your  safe  guide, 
To  scenes  of  bliss  on  high. 

May  Heaven  be  thine — be  thine  at  last — 
And  when  your  eurthly  days  are  past, 

There  may  you  find  a  home  ; 
And'  bask  in  those  bright  realms  of  joy, 
Where  happiness,  without   alloy, 
And  pleasures  ever  bloom. 


So 


THE   DRA3IA   OF   LIFE. 


\Vhat  is  man's  history  ?     Bom — living — dying — 
Leaving  the  still  shore  for  the  troubled  "wave ; 

'.Mid  clouds  and  storms,  o'er  broken  shipwrecks  flying. 
And  casting  anchor  in  the  silent  grave. 


LIFE  is  a  scene,  from  earliest  dawn  to  age, 
In  which  mankind  perform  a  varied  part, 
While   never-resting  Time,   on  every  page, 
Writes  changes  with  a  skill  surpassing  Art. 
lu  Infancy  our  young  and  tender  heart 
Knows  naught  of  that  which  future  years  declare, 
Of  those    misfortunes  that  so  often  thwart 
Man's  brightest  hopes  and  expectations  fair ; 

For  in  maternal  arms  we  rest,  all  free  from  care. 

S* 


86  THE  DRAMA   OF  LIFE. 

II. 

'T  is  joyous  then — in  Childhood's  happy  hour — 
When  no  portentous  clouds  appear  in  sight ; 
And  o'er  our  path  no  angry  tempests  lower  ; 
But  Life's  resplendent  sun  shines  fair  and  bright: 
With   friends    we    gather   round  the   hearth    at 

night : 

A  father's  love,  and  mother's  fond  caress, 
We  then  receive — and  oft,  with  foootsteps  light, 
We  roam,  when  cares  are  few  and  sorrows  less, 
O'er  flowery  fields,  while  all  is  joy  and  happiness. 

III. 

But   Childhood   soon    departs — Life's  gladsome 

spring — 
And  Youth  comes  on,  like   Summer's    opening 

day, 

As  rolling  years,  on  Time's  swift-moving  wing, 
With  various  changes  fraught,  speed  fast  away  : 
Then  oft  we  meet  the  youthful  and  the  gay, 
And  spend,  'mid  scenes  of  mirth,  a  passing  hour, 
Nor  think  that  earthly  pleasures  will  decay, 
As  quickly  fades  the  fairest  vernal  flower — 
Nor  think  that  friends  must  yield  to  Death's  all 

conquering  power ! 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    I'HELPS.  87 


Youth's  evanescent  scene  soon  disappears, 
And  Manhood's  varying  cares  increasing  come  ; 
Companions  that  we  loved  in  early  years, 
And  whom  we  often  met  with  joy  at  home, 
Now  mouldering  lie  within  the  darkened  tomb — 
Parents,  perchance,  are  numbered  with  the  dead  ; 
And,  as  we  view  the  past  through  present  gloom, 
The  raind  recoils  to  think  of  seasons  fled  ; 
And  youthful  joys  and  hopes  that  have  like  meteors 
sped  ! 


Unwearied  Time  steals  on  with  rapid  pace, 
And  Old  Age  seizes  fast  the  tottering  frame, 
And  marks  the  silver  locks  and  furrowed  face, 
Which,  in  their  silent  eloquence,  proclaim 
Death's   near  approach — that  soon  our  humble 

name 

Will  be  forgot,  though  years,  three-score  and  ten, 
Have  rolled  their  courses  round,  since  first  we 

came 

* 

Upon  Life's  stage — a  world  of  dying  men  ! — 
At  length   he   comes,   and   dust   returns   to    dust 
again  ! 


8S  THE    DRAMA    OF    LIFE. 

VI. 

How  changeful  life  !  how  brief  our  earthly  span  ! 
How  soon  we  leave  this  world  of  care  and  woe  ! 
But  there's  a  heavenly  voice  that  speaks  to  man, 
While  on  his  toilsome  pilgrimage  below, 
That  bids  him  turn  to  God,  and  wisdom  know  ; 
And  place  his  hopes  beyond  Time's  dusky  even, 
That  up,  at  last,  his  ransomed  soul  may  rjo, 
And  in  Elysian  climes  to  him  be  given, 
Eternal    Life  nnd  Joy,    immutable   as    Heaven  ' 


S<J 


TEE   SAVIOUR'S  VOICE. 

"  Peace,  be  still." 

THE  winds  are  fierce,   the  storm  is  loud, 
The  frightful  wares  roll  swift  and  high  ; 

Above,  a  dark  and  threatening  cloud, 
Obscures  the  azure  vaulted  sky. 

A  bark  is  on  the  foaming  deep, 
And  terror  fills  the  seaman's  breast  ; 

But  Jesus  now  is  wrapped  in  sleep, 
For  he  hath  laid  him  down  to  rest. 

In  vaki  they  strive  against  the  storm, 
To  guide  the  vessel  safe  to  shore  ; 

Yet  fearful  of  impending  harm, 

They  now  the  Saviour's  aid  implore. 


DO  THE    SAVlOt'u's    VOICE. 

Then  rising  from  his  lowly  bed, 
The  raging  winds  obey  his  will ; 

And  o'er  the  sea  a  calm  is  spread, 
At  the  blest  mandate  "  Peace,  be  still." 

Like  seamen  on  the   ocean's  tide, 
Bound   to  a  far  and  foreign  clime, 

O'er  Life's  rough  sea  we  swiftly  glide, 
And  pass  beyond  the  verge  of  time. 

Though  storms  may  rage  and  hearts  be  sad, 
And  hope  give  way  to  grief  and  fear  ; 

Still  this  one  thought  should  make  us  glad, 
The  Saviour,  though  he  sleep,  is  near. 

Should  even  the  darkest  tempest  rise, 
Presaging  gloom,  and  threatening  ill  ; 

How  soon  't  will  vanish  from  our  skies, 
"When  Jesus  speaketh,  "  Peace,  be  still.11 

How  sweet  the  comfort  of  that  voice, 
When  to  the  humble  soul  'tis  given, 

To  bid  the  wavering  heart  rejoice, 
And  guide  the  pilgrim  on  to  heaven. 


91 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S   HOME, 

BEYOND  the  farthest  verge  of  time, 
There  is  a  joyous,  heavenly  clime, 
Where  glories,  rapturous  and  sublime, 

In  varied  grandeur  rise  : 
And  there,  amid  those  lovely  lands, 
In  peerless  light,  a  building  stands, 
A  house  of  GOD,  not  made  with  hands, 

Eternal  in  the  skies. 

The  glorious  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
Sheds  there  his  radiant  beams  to  bless, 
While  all  the  heavenly  hosts  confess 

The  honors  of  their  king  : 
The  angel  throng — celestial  choir — 
With  sweetest  voice  and  tuneful  lyre, 
Chant  the  high  praises  of  their  Sire, 

And  holy  anthems  sing. 


92  THE    CHRISTIAN  S    HOME. 

Bright  land  of  bliss  !   where  all  is  peace, 
Where  troubles,  fears,  and  sorrows  cease, 
And  happiness  and  joy  increase, 

To  fill  the  raptured  soul : 
Thrice  happy  home  ! — for  ever  blest — 
The  weary  pilgrim  there  shall  rest, 
And  care  ne'er  vex  his  tranquil  breast, 

As  endless  ages  roll. 

Shall  we — when  all  our  clays  are  past, 
When  Death  shall  come,  like  Autumn's  blast, 
And  bear  us  to  the  grave  at  last, 

From  all  we  love  below — 
Be  welcomed  to  that  peaceful  shore, 
To  rest  from  toil,  our  labors  o'er, 
And  feel  the  pains  of  sin  no  more, 

Where  purest  pleasures  flow  ? 

Then  let  us  like  the  tireless  sun, 
The  Christian  race  with  patience  run, 
Nor  deem  our  work  below  is  done, 

Till  life's  last  breath  be  given  : 
Up  then  we'll  soar  to  that  blest  home, 
Far  from  the  reach  of  earthly  gloom, 
Beyond  the  portals  of  the  tomb — 

Eternal — and  in  heaven  ! 


93 


THE   CONTRAST. 


WRITTEN    ON    THE    BURNING   OF   THE    STEAMBOAT    LEXINGTON, 
ON   LONG    ISLAND   SOUND,   JANUARY  13,    1840. 


THE  sun  had   gone  down,  and  the  splendor  of  day, 
In  evening's  dim  twilight,  was  fading  away  ; 
The  stars  in  their  beauty — those  watchers  on  high, 
Looked  out  on   the  world,  from  their  home  in  the 

sky. 

The  pale,  crescent  moon  to  the  zenith  had  rode, 
And  gazing  far  down  from  her  starry  abode, 
Diffused  o'er  the  earth  her  soft  silvery  beams, 
And  beheld  her  fair  form  in  the  ice-fettered  streams. 

From  orient  climes,  in  his  sombre-clad  car, 
Grim  Darkness  rode  forth,  like  a  foeman  to  war  ; 
And  the  last  gleam  of  day,  at  his  sullen  behest, 

Expiring,  grew  faint,  till  it  died  in  the  west. 
9 


94  THE   CONTRAST. 

The  chill  blasts  of  winter  swept  over  the  SOUND, 
And    stirred     its    dark    waves    from    their   lowest 

profound ; 

Commingling,  they  rolled  to  the  ice-covered  shore, 
And  lashed  its  rough  rocks  with  impetuous  roar. 

The  wailing  of  surges   the  troubled  air  fills, 

As  its  echo  resounds  from  the  snow-crested  hills  ; 

Though  swift   moves  the  flood,  in  its  wild  swelling 

tides, 
Yet  over  its  bosom  the  LEXINGTON  rides. 

Her  pennons  are  waving  in  majesty  proud — 
She  fears  neither  billow  nor  dark  lowering  clouJ  ; 
Around  her,  without,  all   is  cheerless  arid  sad — 
Within,  all  is  pleasant,  and  joyful,  and  glad. 

For  there  are  assembled  the  young  and   the  gay, 
And  though  they  are  far  from  their  kindred  away, 
Yet  all  are  expecting  with  rapture  to  meet, 
And   again   their  companions — their  loved  ones  to 
greet. 

Some  are  dreaming,  perchance,  of  Earth's  honors 

and  wealth, 

Of  a  long  blissful  life,  ever  blooming  with  health  ; 
And  scenes  of  enjoyment  before  them  are  spread, 
In  the  flower-strewn  path  they  are  hoping  to  tread. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  95 

The  light  and  the  buoyant  of  spirit  are  there, 
And  beauty  beams  forth  in  the   face  of  the  fair  ; 
No  sorrows,  foreboding,   their  pleasures   annoy — 
The  day  is  at  hand  that  will   crown  them  with  joy. 

And  there  is  the  man  in  the  midst  of  his  years, 
Before  whom   the  future's  bright  vista  appears, 
"While  visions  of  happiness   constantly   rise, 
With  fairy  enchantments,  to  ravish  his  eyes. 

The  father  is  there,  who  is   far  from   the  hearth, 
"Where  his  children  are  sporting  in  innocent  mirth  ; 
His  mind  wanders  back,  for  it  grieved  him  to  part 
From  his  home   and  the  group  that  are  dear  to  his 

heart. 

And  there  is   the  mother,  who  clasps  to  her  breast, 
Her  sweet   smiling  infant  now  taking  its  rest  ; 
As  waves  dash  in  fury,  and  winds  shriek  so  wild, 
She  embraces  the  closer  her  slumbering  child. 

Thus  the  old  and  the  young,  and  the  gay  and  the 

grave, 

Have  together  embarked  for  a  nicht  on  the  wave — 
Unconscious  of  danger  they  glide  on  their  way, 
As  the  vessel  in   triumph   speeds  swift  through  the 

spray. 


96  THE    CONTRAST. 

Hark  ! — what   is   that    sound,    they    so    suddenly 

hear — 

That  maketh  the  stoutest  to  tremble  with  fear  1 
'T  is  the  loud  pealing  FIRE-CRY  that  bursts  on  the 

air, 
And  rouses  each  heart  in  the  home  of  despair  ! 

They    spring    from  their    places — all    rush   to   the 

deck, 

And   vainly  endeavor  the   wild  flames  to  check  : 
As   well    might   the    whirlwind    be    stayed    in  its 

course, 
Or  the  avalanche  robbed  of  its  terrible  force  f 

They  spread    in  their  fury — in  grandeur  they  rise, 
Till   their  light    far  above   hath    encrimsoned    the 

skies ; 

While  the  foam  of  the  dark  rolling  billows  below — 
Like  Erebus'  deep — wears   the  hue  of  their  glow  ! 

The  shrieks  of  the  dying  come  up  from  the  waves — 
The  living  look  down  on  their  cold  watery  graves  ; 
And  the  wail  of  despair  that  rolls  out  on  the  deep, 
Bids  the  hosts  of  the  sea-monsters  wake  from  their 
sleep ! 


POEMS    BY    S.  D.  PHELPS.  97 

Where,  where  is  that  throng,  so  exultant  and  gay, 
Who  had  banished  all  fear  of  the  future  away? 
Oil,  where  are  the  lovely  in  youth's  glowing  pride  ? 
Ah  !  Beauty  then  wept  as  they  sank  in  the  tide  ! 

Where   now   are    the   joyous,    in    manhood's   firm 

health  ? 

And  where  the  bright  visions  of  honor  and  wealth? 
Go  ask  of  the  billows — go  question  the  flames, 
And  read  there,  recorded,   their  perishing  names  ! 

Where,  where    is    that   father,  who   thought  of  his 

home — 

The  spot  where  he  loved  in  his  boyhood  to  roam; 
Who  yearned  the  beloved  of  his  bosom  to  meet, 
And  affection's  dear  pledges  with  pleasure  to  greet  ? 

Oli,  where  is  that  mother,  whose   tenderest  care 

Encircled  her  sweet  little  cherub  so  fair? 

Where,  that   innocent   babe   that   reposed   on    her 

breast  ? — 
They  slumber  together — disturb  not  their  rest  ! 

I  turn  tne  away  from  the  heart-rendiug  sight — 
From  the  saddening  scenes  of  that  horrible  night  ! 
Let  the  gathering  gloom  of  Oblivion's  pall, 

O'er  the  wreck  of  the  ill-fated  Lexington  fall ! 
9* 


98 


TO  AN   ABSENT   SISTER. 


How  oft  in  childhood's  joyful  hours, 

When  life  was  free  from  pain, 
We  gathered  Spring's  delightful  flowers, 

Bright   blooming  on  the  plain  ; 
And  went  to  school  with  nimble  tread, 

'Neath  Summer's  morning  sky, 
And  hastened  home  when  day  had  fled, 

And  eve  was  drawing  nigh. 

When  Autumn's  fruits  of  golden  hue, 

The   bounteous  year  had  crowned, 
We  roamed  the  fragrant  orchards  through, 

Where  plenty  smiled  around  : 
And  oft  we  joined  companions  gay, 

In  scenes  of  cheerful  mirth  ; 
And  when  bleak  winter  held  his  sway, 

Met  parents  round  the  hearth. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  99 

Then  gladness  smiled  in  all  our  ways, 

No  sorrows  pained   our  breast ; 
In  childish  sports  we  spent  our  days — 

Our  nights,  in  peaceful  rest. 
We  thought  the  world  in  which  we  dwell, 

Was  all  a  paradise  ; 
For  naught  had  broke  the  magic  spell — 

We  saw  no  clouds  arise. 

Those  times  are  gone — a  change  appears — 

Our  youthful  joys  have  fled  ; 
And  friends  we  knew  in  early  years, 

Are  numbered  with  the  dead  : 
And  we  no  more  those  loved  ones  see — 

IVo  more  together  roam  ; 
To  us  a  parting   came — and  we 

Are  far  from   childhood's  home. 

Oh,  sweet  were  those  enchanting  hours, 
When  life  was  young  and  gay ; 

But  ah  !  like  Summer's  fairest  flowers, 
They  all  have  passed  away  ! 

When 'evening  spreads  her  gloomy  pall, 
And  Boreas  pours  his  blast, 

How  oft  with  pleasure  we  recall 
The  memory  of  the  past ! 


100  TO    AN    ABSENT    SISTER. 

But  high  above  this  changing  world, 

Beyond  its  darkest  scene, 
Undying  glories  are  unfurled, 

In  fields   of  fadeless  green  : 
No   parting  sad,  no  sullen  blight, 

Of  pain  and  death  no  fear, 
No  gathering  storm,  nor  cheerless  night 

Shall  in  that  realm   appear. 

How  joyous  they   who  shall  at  last, 

Those  heavenly  blessings  share  ; 
For  sorrow's  cloud  shall  never  cast 

Its  darksome   shadows  there  : 
There  may  we  meet,   among  the  blest, 

When  free  from  death's  control, 
And  with  seraphic  spirits  rest, 

While  ceaseless  periods  roll  ! 


101 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  JOSIAH   MeWHINNIE,3 

WAKE,  my  liarp,  in  mournful  numbers, 

Sound  a  requiem  o'er  the  tomb, 
Where  the  loved  in  silence  slumbers, 

Snatched  away  in  early  bloom — 
Torn  from  those  who  gathered  round  him, 

Oft  his  heavenly  words  to  hear  ; 
Ah,  the   cruel  grave  hath  found  him, 

Death  has  closed  his  bright  career. 

Wake,  my  harp,  in   tones  of  sadness, 

Chant  the  soft  and  plaintive  strain, 
For  our  recent  joy  and  gladness, 

Now  are  turned  to  bitter  pain ; 
Gushing  tears  arc   fast  descending 

From  the  mourner's  weeping  eye, 
Sorrowing  hearts  together   blending, 

Deeply  draw  the  heaving  sigh. 


102       ON    THE    DEATH    OF     JOSIAII     Rl'\VHINNIE. 

While  we  pour  our  lamentation, 

And  our  saddened  tribute  give, 
We  have  still  the  consolation, 

That  his   deeds  of  kindness  live  : 
Yes,  he  met   his  class  with  pleasure, 

In  the  Sabbath   school  so  dear  ; 
Taught  them  from  the  Bible's  treasure 

Of  a  holy,  happy  sphere. 

Oft  he  cheered  the   place  of  sorrow, 

Gave  the  heart  a   sweet  relief, 
Bade  it  see  a   bright  to-morrow, 

Though  enwrapt  in  care  and  grief — 
Calmed  the  wavering  mind  enshrouded 

Oft  in  darkness,  doubts  and  fears, 
Pointing  to  a  realm  unclouded, 

Where  eternal  day  appears. 

Yes,  he  went  where  mortals  languish, 

On  the   bed  of  sickness  Iain — 
Soothed  the  sufferers'  bitter  anguish, 

O  * 

Sympathizing  in  their  pain  ; 
Oft  he  sought  the  humble  dwelling, 

And  bestowed  his  favors  there, 
While  of  Jesus  gladly  telling, 

Or  was  bowed  in  fervent  prayer. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    THELPS.  103 

But  he  's  gone  ! — and  from  its  cluster, 

Suddenly  a  star  hath  fled, 
Whose  fair  beams  of  heavenly  lustre, 

Far  around  an  influence  shed  ; 
Faded   by  the  Spoiler's  finger, 

Lo,  it  hath  for  ever  flown, 
Yet  remembrance  long  shall  linger, 

Where  its  rays  have  brightly  shone. 

Though  our  eyes  are  dim  with  weeping, 

And  our  hearts  are  filled  with  gloom, 
As  we  mourn  for  him  who  's  sleeping 

Silent  in  the  tranquil  tomb ; 
Still  there  's  joy  amid   our  grieving, 

And  it  soothes  affliction's  rod — 
Heavenly  bliss  he  's  now  receiving, 

In  the  presence  of  his  God. 

Ay,  our  dearest  friend  hath   left  us, 

Gone  from  those  he   loved  below  ; 
Yet  our  Father  who  bereft  us, 

Can  a  healing  balm  bestow  : 
Saviour,  grant  us  resignation, 

Bid  our  sorrows  from  us  flee  ; 
Let  this  mournful  dispensation 

Humbly  lead  us  unto  thee. 


104 


AUTUMN  MUSINGS. 

"The  melancholy  days  are  come,  the  saddest  of  the  year." 

THE  gladsome   days  of  summer   fair  have   swiftly 

passed  away, 
And  nature,  once  in  gorgeous  robes,  assumes  a  dull 

decay  ; 
Autumnal   breezes,  cold    and  sad,  with   mournful 

wail  sweep  by, 
And    bear  upon   their  gloomy   wings   the  flowers' 

expiring  sigh. 

Oh,  yes,  the  bright  and   lovely  flowers,  by  gentle 

zephyrs  fanned, 
And   nurtured    in    our  gardens   by   sweet    Flora's 

plastic   hand, 
Have  quickly  faded    from   our  sight,  and  vanished 

like  a  spell, 
And   hollow  winds,  with    cheerless    sound,   their 

passing  requiem  tell. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  105 

The  smiling  fields,  the  meadows  green,  and  forest's 

towering  head, 
So  late  in  all   their  loveliness,  before  our  vision 

spread, 
Now  wear  a  robe  of  deadly  hue,  of  verdant  beauties 

shorn, 
And  from  its   stem    descends   the  leaf,  by  frosty 

fingers  torn. 

The  happy  songsters  of  the    air   have  winged   a 

southern  flight, 
Where  still  the  golden  orb  of  day  diffuses  genial 

light, 
No  more  we  see    their  playful   sport   among  the 

forest  trees — 
No  more  to  us  their  music  sweet  is  wafted   by  the 

breeze. 

Thus  change  is  stamped  on  all  below  the  bright, 

o'er-arching  sky — 
The  loveliest  things  we   gaze   upon  must  wither, 

droop  and  die  ; 
As  fades  and   falls  the  Autumn  leaf,   as  droops  the 

Summer  flower, 
So    those  we    love    are    torn    away    by  Death's 

unpitying  power. 

10 


106  AUTUMN    MUSINGS. 

As  we  the  vistas  of  the  past,  in    memory's  glass 

survey, 
And  call  to  mind  the  by-gone  scenes  of  childhood's 

early  day, 
Of  those  with  whom  we  mingled   then   how  few, 

alas,  remain ; 
How  oft,  to  bear  them  to  the  grave,  we  've  joined 

the  funeral  train  ! 

We  start  in  youth,  with  buoyant  hopes,  to  tread 

the  path   of  life, 
Unconscious  that  its  varied  scenes  are  fraught  with 

care   and   strife ; 
Unconscious  that  our  brightest  skies   may  soon  be 

spread  with   gloom — 
Forgetful   that  our  flowery  road  is    leading  to  the 

tomb ! 

Thus  on   we    pass,    but    quickly   find    that    life's 

revolving  years 
Are  few  and   brief  while  here  we  stay  in  this  low 

vale  of  tears — 
That    earthly    hopes    are    fickle    as   the    zephyr's 

fleeting  breath — 
We  see  them  fall  and  wither  at   the  blighting  touch 

of  death. 


POEMS    Bt    S.    D.    PHELPS.  107 

And  then  we  turn  our  saddened  minds  to  brighter 

scenes  above, 
Receive   a  boon  that  ne'er  shall  fail — a  hope  in 

Jesus'  love  ; 
That  glorious   hope   revives  the  soul,  it  shows  the 

way  to  heaven, 
And  is  the  Christian's   polar  star,  while  here  by 

tempests  driven. 

Though  oft  below  we   part  with  friends  and  leave 

our  homes   behind, 
And  journey   through  life's    chequered  scenes,  of 

good  or  evil  kind  ; 
Yet  this  unfading  hope  remains,  "  an  anchor  of  the 

soul ;" 
It  bears  us  up  in  hours  of  gloom,  and  points  us   to 

the  goal. 

Oh  !  there  's  a  home  of  endless  joy,  beyond  the 

rayless  tomb, 
Where  lovely  flowers  that  never  die,  in  heavenly 

gardens  bloom  ; 
And  angel  fingers  gather  them,  as  o'er  those  fields 

they  tread, 
And  weave  a  fadeless  coronal  to  deck  the  pilgrim's 

head. 


108  AUTUMN    MUSINGS. 

In  that  celestial   world  of   bliss,    no  sorrow   e'er 

appears, 
For  God   shall  call  his  children    there,   and   wipe 

away  their  tears  ; 
And  Christian  friends  at  last  shall  meet,  to  part  no 

more  for  aye, 
But  join  to  sing  the  SAVIOUR'S  praise,  in  everlasting 

day. 


109 


INVITATION. 


Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and   are  heavey  laden,  and  I 
give  you  rest. — MATT.  xi.  23. 


PILGRIM  !   hast  thou  far  departed, 

From  the  Saviour's  peaceful   arms  ? 
Dost  thou  wander,  fickle-hearted, 

'Mid  the  world's   alluring  charms, 
Cherishing  its  fleeting  pleasures, 

More  than  joys   of  Jesus'  love — 
Mindless  of  the  heavenly  treasures, 

Which  he  bade  thee  place   above  1 

Harkeu  to  the  Saviour  speaking, 
Lend  once   more  a   listening  ear, 

And  with  humble,  fervent  seeking, 
Bow  to  Him  with  holy  fear : 

Soon  you  '11  find  that  earth  is  dreary, 
All  its  hopes  are  vain  at  best ; 

Come  to  Jesus,  where  the  weary 

Find  secure  and  tranquil  rest. 
10* 


110  INVITATION. 

Ye,  whose  aged  feet   are   tending 

To  the   borders  of  the  tomb, 
Where  your  dust  will  soon  be  blending 

With  the  darkness   of  its    gloom — 
Come,  although  so  long  delaying 

Every  offer  to   be  blest, 
For  the  Saviour  still  is  saying, 

Come,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 

Ye,  the  path  of  wealth  pursuing, 

In  the    midst  of  bustling  life  ; 
And  bright  years  of  joy  are  viewing, 

Through  the  scenes  of  present  strife- 
Pause,  and  let  your  thoughts  be  turning 

To  the  riches  Christ  bestows — 
Ere  life's  lamp   shall  cease  its  burning, 

Fly  to  Him  and  find  repose. 

Ye,  who  bask  in  life's  bright  morning, 

And  are  hoping  still   for  bliss, 
Listen  to  a  friendly  warning — 

There  's  a  better  world  than  this  ; 
Purer  joys  than  earth  is  giving, 

Flow  from  God's  eternal  truth — 
Seek  the  fount  of  waters  living, 

In  the  sunny  days  of  youth. 


POEMS    BY    S.   D.  PI1ELPS.  Ill 

Voyager  on  life's  troubled    ocean  ! 

Would  ye  find   a  port  of  rest  1 
Turn  away  from  earth's  commotion, 

Come  to  Jesus  and  be  blest ; 
Then,  at  last,  on  seraph's  pinions, 

Thou  shall  rise  to  heaven  above, 
And  for  aye,  in  its  dominions, 

Sing  redeeming  grace  and   love  ! 


••THERE  THE  WEARY  ARE  AT  REST." 

THE  world  is  full  of  sorrow,  toil  and  woe  ; 

And  disappointment  is  the  lot  of  men  ; 

Our  prospects  now  are  bright,  then  dark  again  : 
And  thus  we  pass  our  pilgrimage  below. 
Now  health  and  vigor  shed  their  gladdening   glow 

Along  life's  cheerful  pathway,  cairn  and  bright, 
While  friends  we  love  their  kind  regards  bestow  : 

Now  gloomy  sickness,  with  its  touch  of  blight, 

Beclouds  our  skies,  and  turns  the  day  to  night ; 
Perchance  the  ties  of  friendship  too  are  riven, 

And  the  kind  hands  we  once  with  pleasure  prest, 
Are  now  withdrawn  and   unto  others  given  ; 
But  't  is  not  thus  amid   the  scenes  of  heaven  ; 

Though  earthly  joys  are  fickle  at  the  bcs", 

Yet  there  no  sadness  fills  the  peaceful  breast — 
The  pilgrim  finds  a  home — the  weary  are  at  rcsf. 


113 


LIXES 


ON    THE    DEATH   OF    HDWARD^DWIGHT    IVES,     AGED      ONE    TEAR. 

AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED    TO    HIS    PARENTS, 

MRS.  JULIA   ARM    AND    REV.    D.    IVES. 


FATHER  f  though  the  bud  we   cherished, 
Thou  hast  caused  to  droop  and  die  ; 

Though  fond   hopes  have  quickly  perished, 
Yet  we  raise  no  mumuring  sigh. 

Edward  !  peaceful  are  thy  slumbers, 

Not    upon  thy  cradle-bed, 
But  amidst  the  silent  numbers, 

In  the  dwelling  of  the  dead. 

Lovely  babe,  though  not  reclining 
On  thy  mother's  bosom   now  ; 

Yet  glad  seraphs  are  entwining 

Fadeless  garlands  round  thy  brow. 


114  LINES. 

Then  from  heaven  we  would   not  call  thee, 
Though  possessed  of  sweetest  charms ; 

Since  no  sorrows  can  befall  thee, 
Resting  in  the  Saviour's  arms. 

He  who  gave  this  opening  flower, 

Far  too  bright  for  earth's  dark  gloom, 

Up  hath  borne  it  to  His  bower, 
Where  it  shall  immortal  bloom. 


115 


SOCIAL   PRAYER. 

WE  'VE  met  again — a  little  band — 

'T  is  by  thy  goodness,  Lord,  we  own  ; 

And  now  unite  us  heart  and  hand, 
To  humbly  supplicate  thy  throne. 

Since  we  have  come  in  Jesus'  name, 
Low  would  we  fall  before  his   feet, 

And  there  the  blessed  promise   claim, 
That  he  with  us  will  deign  to  meet. 

Dear  Saviour,  teach  us  how  to  pray, 
To  bring  thy  blessing  from   above  ; 

Remove  our  guilty  stains  away, 
And  fill  our  souls  with  holy  love. 

Oh,  let  thy  gentle   Spirit's  power 
Upon  our  every  heart  descend  ; 

And  bid  us  feel,  this   sacred   hour, 

A  heavenly  joy  that  ne'er  shall  end. 


116 


INVOCATION, 


EOSG,    WITH    THE    TWO    FOLLOWING    PIECES,    AT    A    TEMPERANCE 

AM)  SABBATH  SCHOOL    CELEBRATION,  IN    SUFFIELI),  CT. 

JULY   4TH,    1841. 


GOD  !  All-glorious,  Great,  Eternal — 
Robed  in  Majesty   and  Light, 

Seated  on  thy  Throne  supernal, 
'Midst  adoring  spirits  bright, 

Gladly  crowning 
Thee  with  Honor,  Praise  and  Might : 

Humbly  at  thy  footstool  bending, 
Here  we  come  with  solemn  vow — 

Let  thy  smiles,  from  heaven  descending, 
Sweetly  rest  upon  us  now, 

While  before  thee, 
Lord,  with  grateful  hearts,  we  bow. 


117 


TEMPERANCE   ODE, 

WHEN  over  our  land  hung  oppression's  dark  pall 
And  clouds  of  the  battle  rose  thick  to  the  sky, 

Our  fathers  united  their  fortunes — their  all — 
To  purchase  their  freedom,  maintain  it,  or  die  ! 

The  contest  was  fierce,  but  they  conquered  in  fight, 
And  Liberty's  banner,  in  splendor  unfurled, 

Waved  high  in  the  heavens,  all  radiant  with  light, 
Beheld  and  admired  by  a  wondering  world. 

As  years  rolled  away,  undisturbed  by  their  foes, 
They  prospered  in  peace,  with  the  blessing  of  God; 

But  soon  a  dread  Tyrant  in  terror  uprose — 

The  monster,  Ii\TEMPEnANCE,was  stalking  abroad. 

Like  blasts  from  the  desert,  his  poisonous  breath 
Swept  over  the  land,  in  its  blight  and  its  gloom, 

Diffusing  the  seeds  of  deep  sorrow  and  death, 
While  thousands  went  down  in  disgrace  to  the 

tomb. 

11 


118  TEMPERANCE    ODE. 

The  Tyrant,  insatiate,  still  sped  on  his  way, 
Resistless  in  might,  like  the  waves  of  the  sea ; 

Triumphantly  hurling  our  hopes  to  decay, 

And  grasping  the  fruit  of  fair  Liberty's  Tree. 

Some  friends  of  their  country  the  ruin  beheld, 
The  danger  foresaw  that  was  spreading  so  wide  ; 

Declared  that  the  Tyrant  must  soon  be  repelled, 
Or  Freedom's  domain  would  be  whelmed  in  his 
tide. 

The  standard  of  Temperance  those  patriots  reared, 
Around  it  soon  gathered  the  good  and  the  wise  ; 

But  now,  as  by  magic,  new  hosts  have  appeared — 
The  DRUNKARD  is  bearing  it  up  to  the  skies. 

To-day,  in  the  Temperance  cause  we  rejoice, 
May  God   speed  it   on  through   the   land  of  the 

brave  ; 

To-day,  do  we  pledge,  with  our  heart  and  our  voice 
That   its   banner,  with   Freedom's,   in  triumph 
shall  wave  ! 


119 


CHILDREN'S  HYMN, 

FATHER  !  from  thy  throne  above, 
Smile  upon  us  in  thy  love  ; 
Happy  children  of  the    free, 
Grateful  songs  would   raise  to  thee. 

Thanks  for  this,  our  peaceful  land, 
"Where   the  favors  of  thy  hand, 
Thou  hast  scattered  far  and  wide, 
Spreading  joy  on  every  side. 

Thanks  for  Learning's   gladsome  rays, 
Beaming  on  our  youthful  days  ; 
And  for  Teachers,  good  and  kind, 

To  instruct  each   tender  mind. 

• 

For  the  Sabbath  day  we  raise 
Cheerful  gratitude  and  praise  ; 
Welcomed  by  the  pealing  bells, 
Of  unchanging  love  it  tells. 


120  CHILDREN'S  HYMN. 

Thanks  for  Sunday  Schools  so  dear, 
Where  we  're  taught  thy  word  and  fear, 
From  that  Holy  Book  of  .thine, 
Filled  with  precious   truths  divine. 

Saviour  !  'mid  all  earthly  strife, 
Through  the  cares  and  ills  of  life, 
May  the  precepts  thou  hast  given, 
Guide  us  in  the  path  to  heaven. 


121 


TO  A   TRACT, 

Go,  messenger  of  truth, 
Enter  the  hulls  of  gayery  and  pleasure, 

And  tell  the  vain    and  thoughtless  youth, 
The  fickleness  of  every  earthly  treasure  ; 

Tell  him  of  never-fading  joy, 
Ot'  everlasting  happiness  in  heaven  ; 

And  win  him  from   the  world's  alloy, 
To  share  the  Saviour's  love,  so  freely  given. 

Go  to  the  worldling's  home, 
Whose  varying  thoughts  to  earthly  good  are  turning, 

Hid  him   without  delay  to  come 
To  Jesus,  while  life's  flickering  lamp  is  burning ; 

Tell  him  that  gathered  riches  soon 
May  fly  a\vay  upon  their  spreading  pinions — 

Direct  him  to  a  better  boon, 
Worth    more   than     monarch's    cro\vns    or    wide 

dominions. 

11* 


122  TO    A    TRACT. 

Go  where  the  student  toils, 
Who  o'er  the  works  of  ages   past  is  bending, 

And  ne'er  before  his  task  recoils, 
But  treads  ambition's  path  to  glory  tending  ; 

Tell  him   of  wisdom  from  above, 
Whose  peaceful  ways  lead   up  to  joys  supernal ; 

Bid  him  proclaim  redeeming  love, 
And  ere  long  gain  a  diadem  eternal. 

Go  to  the  drunkard's  cot, 
And  soothe  the  wife,  cast  down  with  bitter  feeling, 

And  tell  her  still — despairing  not — 
To  seek  for  aid   at  Heaven's  kind  altar  kneeling. 

The  sinful,  wayward  man  reclaim, 
And  raise   him  from  his  loathsome  degradation  ; 

Bid  him  believe  on  Jesus'  name, 
And  shun,  at  last,  a  fearful  condemnation. 

Go,  when  the  sailor  goes, 
Upon  the  billows  of  the   stormy  ocean, 

WThere  oft  the  fierce  wind  rudely  blows, 
And  drives  the  restless  ship  in  wild  commotion  : 

Approach  the   open-hearted  tar, 
And  though  at  first  he  treat  thee  with  derision, 

Yet  turn  his  eye  to  Bethlehem's  Star, 
For  guidance  to  the   r.ort  of  bliss  Elysian. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  123 

Go  on,  and  land  among 
The  pagan  tribes,  in  darkest  night  enshrouded  ; 

And  then,  clothed  in   their  native  tongue, 
Dispel  the  mists  by  which  their  minds  are  clouded  : 

Tell  how  the  blest  Redeemer  died, 
And  while  such  glad  instruction  thou  art  giving, 

Bid  them  their  idols  cast  aside, 
And  worship  GOD,  the  only  true  and  living. 


J24 


TO   S,   E,   L, 

Writer  of  several  articles  in  the  Christian  Secretary,  among 
which  are  "Spring,"  "Summer,"  "Autumn,"  "  Winter," 
"  Choose  ye  this  day  whom  ye  will  serve,"  "Ministering 
Spirits,"  &c. 

FAIR  ONE,  cease  not   iby  magic  pen  to  ply, 

For  surely  thou  dost  write  with   pleasing  power  ; 
And  oft  as  on  thy  musings  falls  mine  eye, 

It  resteth  on  a  gem,   a  lovely  flower, 
Whose  fragrance  is   refreshing  to  the  weary  mind, 

Whose  beauty  vies  with  lillies  of  the   field, 
Whose  tints  to  fade  away  are  ne'er  inclined, 

For  through  all  seasons  pleasure  still  they  yield. 
Write  on,  young  pilgrim  in  the  path  of  truth, 

Thy  words  shall  bid  the  Christian  heart  rejoice  ; 
And  they  perhaps  may  cause  some  thoughtless  youth 

To  turn  from  sin  and  make  a  heavenly  choice  : 
And  thus  thou  'It  be  a  "  ministering  spirit"  here, 

The   almoner  of  joy  to  troubled   souls, 
And  wear,  when  thou  at  last  in  heaven  appear, 

A  fadeless  garland  wreathed  with  golden  folds. 


125 


FRIENDSHIP, 

Nil  ego  contulerim  jucundo  sanus  amico. — HORACE. 

How  beautiful  the  flowers, 
That  sweetly  blossom   in   the  verdant  field, 
And  fill  the  air  with  fragrance  which  they  yield, 

During  the  summer  hours. 

But  when  cold   Autumn's  blast 
Sweeps  o'er  the  hills  and  dales  with  mournful  sound, 
The  withered  floweret   falls  upon  the  ground, 

And  its  brief  life  is  past. 

-We  bask  in  Friendship's  smile, 
And  chaste  affection  glows  with  gladdening  light, 
As  life's  extending  path  is  often  bright, 

And  beautiful  the  while. 


126  FRIENDSHIP. 

But  if  misfortune's  wave 
Should    flood  our   path    and   change  the  pleasing 

scene — 

Disturb  the  sea  of  life,  so  late  serene, 
Friendship  may  find  a  grave. 

Thus  earthly  joys  decay, 
All  fickle   as  the  fleeting  breath  of  morn — 
The  darkest  night,  the  tempest's  fearful  scorn 

Succeed  the  fairest  day. 

There   is  a  little  vine, 

That  humbly  trails  along  the  forest  glade, 
Whose  verdant  hues  and  beauties  never  fade, 

Nor  cease  for  once  to  shine. 

It  lives  in  Spring's  glad  hour, 
And  is  the  same  'neath  Summer's  sunny  skies — 
Cold  Autumn's  frosty  fingers  it  defies, 

Nor  yields  to  Winter's  power. 

Such  is  the  quenchless  love, 
The  pure  affection  of  that  lasting  Friend, 
Whose  smile  imparts  a  joy  that  ne'er  shall  end — 

A  boon  from  Heaven  above. 


POEMS    BY    S.  D.  PIIELPS.  127 

Whatever  be  our  lot, 

Sickness  or  health,  or  trial's  darkest  hour — 
If  friends  forsake,  and  tempests  o'er  us  lower, 

That  Friend  forsaketh  not. 

In  Him  be  all  our  trust, 

As  pilgrims  through  this  sinful  world  we  go — 
His  love  shall  be  a  balm  for  every  woe, 

Till  dust  returns  to  dust. 


128 


STANZAS, 


O.V     THE    DEATH   OF   MRS.    JULIAETTE   A.    VIETS,     OK 
EAST    GRA.XBT,    CO-NX. 


There  is  a  path,  by  angels  only  trod, 
That  upward  leads,  with  flowers  immortal  strewn, 
And  opening  on  the  fields  of  Paradise. 
Thither  we  trace  your  steps. 

A.  S.  LOVELI., 


ALAS,  the  young,  the  beautiful,  the  loveliest  he 

below, 
Are  often  soonest  made  to  feel  the  pangs  of  earth 

woe ; 
The  purest  and  the  holiest,  from  whom  we  grie' 

part, 
Are  oftentimes  the  first  to  fall  by  Death's  unerrii 

dart. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PIIELPS.  129 

And   such   wast    thou,    sweet   gentle   one,   whose 

requiem   I  sing, 
Fair   as    the    choicest    garden    flower,    that    ever 

bloomed  in  Spring  ; 
But  as  the   blossom   fades   and    dies,   rent  by  the 

storm's  cold   breath, 
So,  from  the  friends  that  round  thee  clung,  thou 

hast  been  torn  by  Death. 

Parents  who  watched   with  anxious  care  thy  young 

and   tender  years, 
Are  soon  in  sadness   made  to  mourn,  and  o'er  thee 

drop  their  tears  : 
A  sister  kind,  whose   joyful    love  was  often    blent 

with  thine, 
No   more   beholds   thy    radiant   smile    along   life's 

pathway  shine. 

But  he  who  prized  thee  most  of  all,  who   shared 

thy  deepest  love, 
Is  early  called   to   let  thee  go   and  join   the    blest 

above  : 
How  was 'his   heart  with   anguish  filled,  how  dark 

the   gathering  gloom, 
To  see  thy  form  by  sickness  waste — to  lay  thee  in 

the  tomb  ! 
12 


130  STANZAS. 

As  on  the  fearful,  stormy  cloud  appears  the  rainbow 

bright, 
So  oft   amid   life's  darkest  hours,  there  gleams  a 

ray  of  light ; 
It   comes    from    Bethlehem's    peerless   Star,    ant 

whispers  hope  and  peace, 
As  on  the    saddened    heart  it   falls,   and  bids    its 

sorrows  cease. 

Thus  friends  of  this  departed  one  are   solaced  ii 

their  woes, 
Believing  that  her  spirit  freed   has   found    a  swee 

repose  ; 
For  she,  with  penitential  tears,  had  sought  the  patl 

of  truth, 
And  early  to  her  Saviour  given  the  lovely  charm 

of  youth. 

Celestial  comforts  flowing  from  Religion's  hallowei 

power, 
Amidst  the   scenes  of  changeful   life — in  Sickness 

trying  hour, 
Gave  her  a  calm  and  heavenly  joy,  which  languag 

fails  to  tell, 
And  bade  her  happy  spirit  rise  when  Death's  dari 

curtains  fell. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  131 

She  died,  as   humble  Christians   die,   with    Jesus' 

presence    blest, 
Sustained    by    an   unfading    hope    of   everlasting 

rest  : 
She  wished  her  child  might  live  for  heaven,  if  God 

its  life  should  spare, 
And  that  her  pious  partner  more  the  Saviour's  love 

might  share. 

But  scarce  a  month  had  passed   away  since  first 

it  drew  its  breath, 
Ere  that  sweet  bud — her  lovely  child — was  plucked 

by  tyrant   Death  ; 
And  as  it   fell  an  angel   caught  the  floweret  robed 

with  charms, 
And  quickly  bore  it  upward  to  its  mother's  opening 

nrms. 

Afflicted    mourner,    cease   to  weep,  although    thou 

art   bereft, 
And  in  this  false  and  fading  world  a  lonely  pilgrim 

left ; 
For  lie-,  whose  hand  hath  borne  away  the  partner 

of  thy  choice, 
Can  calm  the    troubles   of  the  mind   and    bid   the 

heart  rejoice. 


132  STANZAS. 

Then  raise  aloft  thine   eye  to  Him,    and  lie  thall 

dry  thy  tears, 
And   scatter    blessings    in  thy  path   through   life's 

remaining   years  : 
Although  the   most   endearing   tics    have   been   so 

quickly  riven, 
Yet   she   hath   left   a  world   of  woe,  for  scenes   of 

bliss  in  heaven. 

Remember  thou   her  dying  words — those  counsels 

ne'er  forget, 
And  thou   shalt   meet  that  sainted  one — thy  lovely 

JULIAETTE  ; 
And  in  thine  arms   again  embrace  thy  little  cherub 

boy, 
Where  death  and  sorrow  ne'er  are  known — where 

all  is  life  and  joy  ! 


133 


ELOQUENCE, 

FAR  back  among  the  storied  days  gone  by, 
When  gods  descended  from  Olympus  high, 
And,  with  the  humble  dwellers  on  the  earth, 
Engaged  in  councils  grave,  and  scenes  of  mirth, 
There  once  arose  a  fierce,  contentious  strife, 
That  waked  the  warring  elements  of  life. 
Nothing  could  bid  the  fearful  tumult  cease, 
And  hush  wild  passion's  raging  storm  to  peace, 
Till  HERMES'  voice  above  the  tempest  rung — 
Then  silence  came  and  sat  the  crowd  amoncr : 

O 

CALLIOPE    arose,  with    sweetest  song, 
Joined  in  the  tide  of  speech  that  flowed  along, 
Touched  every  spirit  with  a  joyous  thrill — 
The  raging  throng  was  hushed — was  calm,  and  still. 
'T  was  then  young  Eloquence  controlled  the  hour, 
And  each  succeeding  age  has  felt  his  growing  power. 
12* 


* 


134  ELOQUENCE. 

When  Ignorance  has  veiled  the  human  mind, 
And  ruled  its  votaries,  with  error  blind  ; 
When  Superstition's  unrelenting  hand 
Has  swayed  its  sceptre  o'er  some  fated  land — • 
Then  -Eloquence,  resistless  in  its  power, 
Has  made  these  cruel  tyrants  lowly  cower  ; 
And    bade    deluded   men   awake,  arise, 
And  know  their  destiny  beyond  the  skies. 
When  Science'  light,  but  dimly  through  the  dark, 
Hath  sent  abroad  a  faintly  glimmering  spark, 
And  scarce  a  spot  was  found  its  rays  to  claim, 
The   breath  of  Eloquence    has  fanned  its  kindling 
flame. 

When  Liberty  and  Right  are  trampled  down, 
And  crushed  to  earth  beneath  a  tyrant's  frown — 
When  man,  by  fellow-man,  midst  toil  and  pain, 
Is  made  to  drag  the  bondman's  galling  chain — 
When,  o'er  the  dwellers  in  a    peaceful  lam!, 
A  foreign  monarch  claims  supreme  command — 
'T  is  thine,  O  Eloquence,  to  f»lead  the  cause 
Of  Truth  and   Freedom,  'gainst  unholy  laws — 
'Tis  thine  to  speak  for  victims  held  in  thrall, 
And    at  the   feet  of    mightier  made    to  fall — 
The  poor  oppressed  to  rouse  with  stirring  breath, 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.  PIIELPS.  135 

And  nerve  the  heart  for  "  Liberty  or  Death  /" 
Such  was  thy  power  when  HEXRY  moved  the  throng, 
\Vith  lightning  in  his  eye,  and  thunder  on  his  tongue ! 

A    holier   sphere    for  Eloquence    we    find, 
Wherein  its  noblest  powers  may  h'ess  mankind  : 
When    pure    Religion  is   its   pleasing  choice, 
How  deep  its  tones,  how  sweet  its  winning  voice  ! 
Robed  with  the  radiance  of  celestial  light^ 
Bearing-  the    armor   of  the    Spirit's  might, 
It    falls  resistless  on   the   human  soul, 
And  bids  it  humbly  bow  to  Heaven's  control. 
It  spreads  o'er  troubled  minds  a  peaceful  calm, 
And  shows  for  mental  ills  a  healing  balm. 
Descending  soft  like    Ilermon's  gentle  dew, 
It  fills  the  heart  with  pleasures  strangely  new — 
Paints  the   rapt  glories  of  the  world  above, 
W  here  flow  the  crystal  streams  of  everlasting  love. 

O    Eloquence  !     impart    celestial    fire, 
And  bid  thy  glowing  words  the  soul  inspire  ; 
Oft  leMhy  brightest  beams  the  feelings  warm, 
And    kindle    into    life  the    languid    form  ; 
Rest  cii  the  brow,  and  guide  the  waving  hand, 
"W  hile  chosen   numbers  (low  at  thy  command  : 


136  ELOQUENCE. 

Let  notes  as  mild  as  gentlest  music  break, 
And  deeper  tones  in  thrilling  sounds  awake — 
Let  the  smooth  cadence  fall  upon  the  ear, 
Soft  as  the  whisper  of  an  angel  near — 
As  lightning  flashes  through  the  sombre  sky, 
So  let  thy  radiance  touch    the   beaming  eye — 
As  thunders  roll  the  arching  heavens  around, 
So  let  thy  voice  in.  loudest  peals  resound — 
As  swollen  torrents  with    impetuous    force, 
Sweep  all  impediments  within  their  course, 
So  wield  thy  strength — thy  magic  power  display, 
And  o'er  the  mind  thy  conquering  sceptre  sway, 
Till  Ignorance  shall  sink  in  gloomy  night, 
Before  the  dawn  of  Learning's  hallowed  light — 
Till    Tyranny  shall  find  a  rayless  grave, 
And  Freedom's  Banner  o'er  the  nations  wave — 
Till    from    the    world    Idolatry    depart, 
And  glorious  Truth  divine  illumine  every  heart! 


137 


TO   MY   MOTHER, 

MOTHER  ! — how  dear  that  word  ! 
Its  faintest    echo    thrills  my   very  heart — 
As  if  it  were  an  angel's  voice  I  heard, 

Unconsciously  I  start. 

A  thousand  pleasing  things 
It  bids,  at  once,  before   my   vision   rise  ; 
And  back  to  mind  in    all  its  freshness  brings 

An  earthly    paradise. 

My    mother  and    my   home 
Are  hallowed  terms  that  blend  in  union  sweet ; 
And   though    away    from    both  I  often  roam, 

Yet   glad   return   my  feet. 

I    joy   to  view  the  place, 

Blest  by  a  cherished  parent's    tenderest    care, 
AVhile    memory   loves   each  early  scene  to  trace, 

And    fondly    linger  there. 


138  TO    MY    MOTHER. 

Mother !   't  is  evening    now, 
And  I   am    far   from    childhood's  place  of  glee ; 
But  as    my    hand  supports  my  aching   brow, 

My  thoughts    go   forth   to    thee. 

I  think  of  those   glad   days, 
When   I  was  'nealh   thy  care,  a  playful  child, 
And   thou  didst  watch  my  little  sports  and  ways, 

And  on  me  sweetly   smiled. 

Oft,  at  the  evening  hour, 
Thou  kindly    bad'st   me    to    thy   side   repair, 
To  tell  me  of  the  great  Creator's  power, 

And  learn  me  some   sweet  prayer. 

Those  lessons  taught  by  thee, 
Were  not  forgotten    then,  nor   are   they  yet — 
Way-marks    they  've  been,  in  evil  hours,  to  me, 

To  shun  temptation's   net. 

And  through  life's  gathering  cares, 
My    heart  with    gratitude  shall    e'er   rejoice, 
That  Heaven  hath  blest  me  with  a  mother's  prayers, 

A  mother's   warning  voice. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    rilELPS.  139 

Most  bitterly  I   mourn, 

That  I  should  e'er  have  caused  thee  once  to  grieve, 
Or  thy  fond  heart  with   anguish  to  have  torn — 

My  penitence  receive. 

I  know  thou  lov'st   me    still, 
And  oft  in  my  behalf  dost  humbly  pray, 
That  Heaven  may  shield  me  from  each  threat'ning  ill, 

And  crown  with  joy  my  way. 

May  blessings  on  thee  rest, 
Mother,  till   life's   fast  waning  day  be   o'er ; 
Then   may  we  join  the    ransomed  and   the   blest, 

Where  parting  is   no   more. 


140 


"TUB   BRIGHT  AND  MORNING  STAR," 

STAR  of  unfading  light, 
Thy  peerless  glories  bright, 

I  fain  would  sing: 
Oh,  let  thy  beams  inspire 
My  soul  with  sacred  fire, 
And  of  my  trembling  lyre 

Touch  every  string. 

How  dark  the  night  of  time, 
When  first  thy  rays  sublime, 

Celestial  gem, 
Descending  from  on  high, 
Illumed  the  sombre  sky, 
And  met  the  Shepherds'  eye, 
In  Bethlehem  ! 


POEMS    BY    S.  D.  PIIELPS.  141 

Ere  toward  the  infant  God, 
With  hasty  steps  they  trod, 

An  angel's  voice, 
In  new  and  rapturous    song, 
Joined  by  a  heavenly  throng, 
The  anthem  to  prolong, 

Bade  them  rejoice. 


Though  lowly  was  thy  birth, 
Among  the  sons  of  earth, 

Resplendent  Star  ! 
Yet,  with  the  victor's  prize, 
Triumphant  thou  didst  rise, 
And   highest   in   the  skies, 

Thy  glories  are. 

Enraptured    at    the  sight, 
The    prophets  saw  thy  light, 
And  blessed  thy  name : 
Thy  praise  filled  many  a  tongue, 
The  Gentile    race  among — 
Thy  love  the  martyrs  sung 

Amidst  the  flame. 
13 


142  "  THE  BRIGHT  AND  MORNING  STAR." 

To  thousands  here  below, 
'Mid   scenes  of  care  and  woe, 

Thou  art  a  guide, 
Imparting  light  and  peace, 
Bidding   their  joys   increase, 
And  fearful  tempests  cease, 

On  Life's  dark  tide. 

And  thousands  yet  shall  find, 
That  thou  canst  calm  the  mind, 

And    set   it  free, 
When  filled    with   boding  fears, 
When    flow    the  gushing  tears, 
When  aid  nowhere    appears, 

Except  from  thee. 

Ambition's   star  will  set, 
And  friends  may  all  forget — 

Earth's  hopes  decay — 
The  star  of  wealth   may  wane, 
And   pleasure  yield   to    pain ; 
But  thou   shalt    still   remain, 

To  bless   for   aye. 


POEMS    BY    S.    T>.    PHELPS.  143 

When  pcrisheth  the  sun, 
And  planets    cease    to    run, 

Leaving   the    sky — 
When    God's    consuming  ire 
Shall  wrap  the  world  in    fire, 
And    Time    itself   expire, 

Thou   shall  not  die ! 


In  higher  heavens  above, 
Where  all   is    peace    and  love, 

Thy   radiance   fair, 
Beaming  from  pole  to  pole, 
Shall    feast  the    ransomed   soul, 
While  countless  ages   roll, 

Eternal  there. 

Let  now    thy   rays    divine, 
On    every   nation   shine, 

Through  earth   abroad ; 
Till   all  thy   light    shall  see, 
Till  all    from    chains   be   free, 
Till    all   shall   bow   the    knee, 

And  worship    God. 


144         "THE  BRIGHT  AND  MORNING  STAR." 

Star   of  celestial   ray, 
Beam    thou    upon    my  way, 

With   guiding   light : 
In   trial's  gloomiest  hour — 
When  sickness  comes  with  power, 
When  death's  dark   curtains  lower, 

Dispel    their  night. 

Then   thee  shall  I    behold, 
On  Canaan's    streets  of  gold — 

From   earth    afar — 
Where  night-shades  never  fall, 
Where  death  shall  ne'er  appall, 
Where   thou    art  ALL  in  ALL, 

BRIGHT  MORNING  STAR  ! 


145 


y  THE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY,4 

THE  SISTERS  OF  CHARITY! — delicate  theme, 
For  the  pen  of  the  rhymer   to  try ; 

IJut  do  not,  dear  reader,  imagine  I  dream, 
As  falls  on  these  verses  thine  eye. 

\ot  now  the  exploits  of  the  lofty  I   sing, 
To    honor    their    name    in  these    lays; 

Vl   a  lovelier  shrine  my  glad  tribute  I  bring, 
And    there  kindly    offer    my   praise. 

The   warrior   may  fight  for  the  land  of  his  birth, 

And   glory    encircle    his    name  ; 
His  deeds  may  be  known  through  the  regions   of 
earth. 

And   blaze   on    the    tablet    of  fame — 

The  statesman  may  strive  in  the  halls  of  debate, 

To   gather   immortal    renown; 
He  may  win  the  first  place  in  the  gift  of  the  state, 

Or   wear   on   his    temples    a    crown — 
13* 


146  THE    SISTERS    OF    CHARITY, 

The  poet   may  chant   his   melodious    song, 
In    numbers    that  never   shall    die ; 

And  the  burst  of  applause  from  the  flattering  throng, 
May  bear  him  with  rapture  on  high — 

The  proud  sons  of  Croosus,  in  Wealth's  gilded  car, 
O'er   life's    golden    pavements   may    fly ; 

And   glitter   in    light   like    a  wandering   star, 
That  darts  through    the   gloom   of  the   sky — 

All  these  may  exult  in  the  sphere  of  their  choice, 

As  onward    and    upward    they    go  ; 
And  still  their  bold   schemes    mny   cause    none   to 

rejoice, 
But    many   deep    sorrow    to    know. 

'T  is  not  the  fierce  flood  and  the  wild  tempest's  power, 
That    gladden   the    earth   by  their  might  ; 

'T  is  the  sweet  flowing  stream  and  the  soft  summer 

shower, 
That   spread  in   their    pathway    delight. 

Though  your   kindness  and   alms    the  wide  world 
may  not  know — 

Ye    friends   of  the    poor   and    the    sac! — 
Yet  from  many  a  heart  they  shall  banish  its  woe, 

And  bid   it  look    up  and    be    glad. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  147 

Though  not  in  bright  splendor,  on    Fame's  blazing 
scroll, 

Your   charity-deeds    may   be    found; 
Yet   they   are   recorded — engraved  on  the  soul — 

To   last   through   Eternity's   round  ! 

Go  on,  then,  rejoicing  earth's  lorn  ones  to  bless — 

The    destitute   orphan    to    aid — 
To   comfort  the    widow,  in    want  and   distress — 

And   ye  shall    at  last  be   repaid. 

Oh,    long   may    the    Sisters  of  Charity   live, 

Their  tokens    of   love  to   impart; 
And  to  each  may  kind  Heaven  a  recompense  give — 

A  boon   that  shall  jrladden   the  heart ! 


148 


HYMN. 

SUNG  AT  A  SABBATH  SCHOOL     COS VEYTION,     IS     XORYVICH,  CONS  , 
MAV    10,    1342. 

GRATEFULLY  our  hearts  are  rising, 
Moved  by  such  unbounded  grace, 

As  the   Saviour's    love  surprising, 
Oil    the    Bible's    leaves  we    trace. 

Precious  Book,  we  love  thy  pages, 
Opening  to  the  tender  mind, 

Glorious  truths,  that  heathen  sages, 
In  their  wisdom  ne'er  could  find. 

Teachers,   from  this  heavenly  treasure, 

Words    of  life    to   us    impart, 
When,  in  Sunday  Schools  with   pleasure, 

Oft   we  meet  with  joyful  heart. 

Saviour,  let  thy   love  attend    us — 
Be   thy  truth  our   constant    guide  : 

Till  we  die,   from  ill  defend  us, 
Then  receive   us  to  thy  side. 


A  DEATH   SCENE, 


\YKITTF.N     O.V     THE     DECEASE     OK    MRS.     EMILY      HAZARD,     OF 

Sl'FFIELD,     CONN.     AND    RESPECTFULLY    DEDICATED 

TO    HER    FATHER,    PARKES    I.OOMIS,    ESQ.. 


TREAD  lightly  now  for  Death  has  come  to  bear 
Away   another  victim  ! 

Has  he   sought 

An  aged  pilgrim,  tired  of  the   world, 
Impatient   to    depart  and   join  the    hosts, 
Robed    in   the   spotless   purity  of  heaven? 
Say,  has  he   fixed  his   wild,  unpitying   eye 
Upon   an   infant  in   its   siidess  days, 
Unconscious  of  his  desolating  power? — 
Conies  he   to  liberate   a  joyless  slave, 
Or  loose   a   prisoner   from   his    dungeon-cell  ?- 
Seeks  lie  the   wasting,  restless  invalid, 
Waiting    his  call  at  each  declining   sun, 
While  lengthened  years  have   passed? 


150  A    DEATH    SCENE. 

No  ! — not  for   these 

The  stern,  relentless   conqueror  hath  come ! 
Nor    sad  Deformity's  lorn   child    to  take, 
Nor   Penury's. — "Death  loves   a  shining   mark!" 
'T  is    Beauty's   own — 't  is   loveliness    itself, 
And   radiant  youth,  merged  in  blest  womanhood — 
'T  is  her  he  seeks — beloved  and  linked  to  friends, 
And  kindred,  by   all    the    endearing  ties 
That  give    to   home  its  sacredness  and  joy, 
And  crown  with  cheerful  bliss  the  cherished  things 
That  cluster  round  the  sweet  and  hallowed  scenes 
Of  social  and  domestic  life.     He  comes 
To  take  the  youthful  mother  from  her  babes — 
•The  tender   wife  from  her  kind,  bosom  friend — 
The  daughter  from  her  doting  parents'  love — 
The  sister  from  her  sisters'  cheering  smiles, 
And  brother's  fond  affection. 

Cruel  Death  ! 

Remorseless  spoiler  of  all  human  hopes, 
And  potent  ruler  of  an  awe-struck  world  ! 
How  oft  he  comes  to  such,  a  dreaded  guest, 
And  finds  them  unprepared  to  meet  his  power, 
Or  hear  his  summons  !     Doth  the  victim  fair, 
For  whom  the  proud,  insatiate  tyrant  waits, 
Not  fear  his  awful  presence? 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS.  151 

No  ! — her  trust 

Is  in  the  Conqueror  of  death  and  hell ! 
And    both   combined    are   powerless  to   move 
The   glorious   anchor  of  her   heavenly  hope ! 
She  had  beheld  the  vanity  of  earth — 
The  fickleness  of  all  its  flattering  scenes — 
And,  listing  to  the  Spirit's  winning  voice, 
She  gave  her  being     o  the  Saviour's  care; 

O  ^* 

And  Hope,  descending  from  the  courts  above, 
Smiled  on  her  snowy  brow,  while  heavenly  joy 
Filled  with  delight  her  ravished  soul.     And  when 
She  gladly  to  the    world  would  show    her  fond 
Attachment  to  the  holy    cause  of  truth, 
And  the   Redeemer's  rites   obey — when  from 
The   crystal  wave  she   rose,  with    countenance, 
Lighted,  as  by  a  ray   from  heaven,  and  with 
Her  own  sweet  smile — t;  methought  that  spotless  brow 
Might  wear  an  angel's   diadem  !"     And  through 
Her  brief  but    joyful  course,  an   unreserved 
Obedience   to    her  blessed  Master's  will 
Hath  been  her  highest  joy :  and  brightening  hope 
Sustains  her   calm,   unshaken   spirit,   while 
Upon    the   crumbling   verge  of  death  she  stands — 
But  see,  around  the  bedside   now  her  friends 
Have    gathered  to  receive  her   farewell  words. 
Listen  ! — she  speaks  : 


152  A    DEATH    SCENE. 

Father,  for  me  weep  not — 
Though  Death  may  part  the  dearest  earthly  ties, 
Yet  soon  we  Ml  meet  again   beyond  the   skies — 
Oh,  is    not   mine    a   happy   lot? 

Mother,   dry  up   your   tears — 
'T  is  hard,  I  know,  to  part   with  those  we  love  ; 
I5ut  Jesus,  smiling  from  the  realms  above, 
E'en  in  death's   vale,  dispels  my  fears. 

Brother,    give    me   thine    hand — 
Oh,   't  is   a  dying   sister's   fervent  prayer, 
That  you  the  Saviour's  love  richly  may  share, 
And  meet  me  in  the  better  land. 

Sisters,  come  to  my  side — 

Let  not  those  tears  your   anguish  deep  reveal; 
Christ  has   a  balm  for  woe — that  balm    I  feel — 
Farewell — be  Heaven  your    constant  guide. 

Children — sweet  babes   of  mine — 
I  leave  you  in   the  blest  Redeemer's  arms : 
Oh,  guard  them  safely  from  all  threatening  harm?, 
And  make  them,  Lord,  forever  thine. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.    PHELPS  153 

Husband,  I  part  with  you ; 
Listen,  beloved,  it  is    my    dying  voice, 
Make  Christ,  I  pray,  your  everlasting  choice — 
He  calls  me  home — adieu  — adieu  ! 

Alas,  that  one  so  fair 

Should    pass    away — a   star    so    bright  should  set, 
Whose  lovely  rays  might  bless  a  thousand  hearts, 
And    scatter    gladness  in   the    path    of  gloom. 
How    wide    the    desolation    Sin    hath    made ! 
The    world  he  holds  beneath   his  iron  sway, 
And   gives    its    myriads    to    the  grasp   of  Death  ! 
Hut   still,    rejoice,   for   oh,    what  triumph    here, 
In    this    dread    conflict !     She  is  gone  ! — 't  is  o'er  ! 
Another   gem   bedecks    the  Saviour's   crown — 
Another    angel    walks  the    golden    streets ! 
Tliat   sweet  celestial  smile   which    brightly  played, 
Upon    her    pallid    features,    as   the   last 
Farewell    was    spoken,    and  the    parting  prayer 
Put    up   to    Heaven's  low    bending  ear — bespeaks 
A   glorious  passage  to    the  spirit  world, 
And   seals   with  truth   the   earnest  of  her    soul, 
To   which   her    dying   lips    gave    utterance — 
"/'//i  not  deceived — my  hope  Is  sure!"     'T  is  well; 

She  's   free    from     every   care 

14 


154  A    DEATH    SCENE. 

List ! — list ! — methinks 
I  hear  a  song  as  sweet  as   angels  sing — 
How    soft  it  swells   upon   the  breeze   of  heaven. 
And   echoes    on  the   sky's  resounding  arch — 
It   is — it   is  a  seraph's  voice  ! — 

She  has  gone  to  the   home   of  her  rest, 
To    realms   of  eternal    delight — 

She   mingles   in  joy   with   the   blest, 
Arrayed   in    perennial   white. 

She  bears  a  glad  harp  in  her  hand, 
And  touches  with  rapture  its  strings — 

To  her  voice  list  the  cherubic  band, 
For  sweet  is  the  song  that  she  sings. 

She  has   gone  to    the   Eden  of  love, 
Away  from  this   sorrowing  sphere — 

She    meets    with   no  sadness   above, 
Nor  falls   from   her    eyelids   a  tear. 

Weep    not  for   the    spirit   that 's  fled, 
Nor   heave   the   embittering    sigh — 

She   resteth    not   now   with    the    dead, 

But   dwells  with    her    Saviour   on   high. 


155 


DEATH   OF  THE   PASTOR'S    WIFE. 


WRITTEN     ON"       THE    DECEASE    OF     MRS.    BMELINE      C.     CLARKE, 

THE    ENDEARED    COMPANION  OF     REV.   M.     G.    CLARKE, 

OF   NORWICH,    CONN. 


ALAS  !  the  world   is    fraught    with  sorrow ! 

Its   brightest  scene  may   have  its   gloom; 
And   loudest   hopes   we   fain  would   borrow 
From  radiant  vistas   of  the   morrow, 

Ere    then    may  find  a  rayless  tomb  ! 

The  Pastor's  circle   has    been   broken — 

His    partner   slumbers    with   the    dead ; 
The    solemn  accents    have    been    spoken, 
As   each  exchanged  the   farewell    token, 

Before    her    peaceful   spirit    fled. 

» 

In  blest   repose    she    sweetly    slumbers, 
From   every  scene    of  care    away — 
With   angel    harps,   she    tunes    her    numbers, 
And   naught    of  woe  her  spirit    cumbers, 
Amidst   the   realms    of  endless  day. 


156  DEATH    OF    THE    PASTOR'S    WIFE. 

No    more   at  worship's    altar   bending, 

Shall   soft    arise    her    heavenly    voice — 
No  more  her  deeds,  with    kindness  blending, 
Like  blessings  from    above    descending, 
Shall  bid   the   lonely  heart    rejoice. 

Though    where  her  mouldering  dust  is  sleeping, 

No    lofty    monument    may  tell — 
The    numerous  friends,  her  absence    weepinsr, 
A   thousand  hearts,  her  memory  keepinir, 
Her  name   and  love  shall    cherish   \vcll. 

Mourn  not,  my  friend,   though  she    is  taken 

From   those   dear  children  at  thy  side, 
And    oft   thy    home    hath   seemed   forsaken  — 
In    JESUS   let   thy   trust,    unshaken, 

Firm   as   His    throne,  for   aye    abide  ! 


157 


SONNET.— TO  SARAH. 

CALM  as  the  surface  of  the  gentle  stream, 
That  sweetly  flows  amidst  the  scented  flowers, 
Whose  mossy  banks  the  ivy's  green  embowers, 

Or  bright  as  visions  of  an  infant's   dream, 
lie  the  mutations    of  thy    passing  life, 
Free  from   the    evils  of  discordant  strife. 

May  no  rude  blast  from  Fortune's  stormy  cloud, 
Along  the  vistas  of  thy  pathway  pour — 

May  Sorrow's  gloom  no  radiant  scene  enshroud, 
That  rises  fair  on  being's  asperous  shore. 

May  Heaven  on   thee  selectest  gifts  bestow, 
And  on  the   friend  of  thy  endearing  choice; 
And  bid  your  fondly  trusting  hearts  rejoice, 

Nor  aught  of  sadness  feel,  or   anguish  know. 

14* 


158 


THE    REMINISCENCES   OF  HOME. 

••  Haec  ineniinisse  juvat." 


CONNECTICUT  !   I  love  thy   peaceful   land, 

The  happy  home  of  many  a  joyous   heart, 
Where  smiling  Knowledge,  with  a  liberal  hand, 

To  all,    her    treasures    freely  doth   impart. 

I  love  the   works  of  nature  and  of  art, 
That  o'er  thy  bosom  every   where   are   spread 

The  town,  the  quiet  village,  and  the  busy  mart ; 
The  stream,  the  vale,  and  mountain's  lofty  head  ; 
And  hallowed  sepulchres,  where  sleep  the   honored 
dead. 


POEMS    BY    S.    D.  PHELP9.  159 


II. 


Land  of  my  birth — my  home — I  love  thee  well ; 

Of  all  thy  pleasing  scenes  I  fain  would  sing, 
For  thought  and  memory  round  them  lingering  dwell, 

And    recollections  sweet  to  mind  they  bring 

Of  those  I  loved  in  life's  bright  laughing  spring, 
And  many  a  spot   where   lives   a  friendly  throng; 

But  I   must  clip    the  gentle  Muse's  wing, 
Nor  let  the   general  theme  my  verse  prolong — 
SUFFIELD  !  to  thee  I  turn,  be  thou  my  humble  song. 


HI. 


HOME  !  there  is   music  in  that   glowing  word, 
That  hath  mysterious  influence  on  the  soul ; 

There  's  eloquence,  though  't  is   in  silence  heard, 
Which  bears  an  irresistable  control, 
And  chains  the  spirit  spell-bound  to  its  goal, 

While  it   spreads  out  the  vision  of  the  past, 
Whi6h  beams  on  Memory's  far-stretching  roll, 

And  wakes  a  thousand   scenes  of  rainbow  cast, 

And  withered   hopes  and  joys,   too  bright   and  fair 
to  last. 


160  THE    REMINISCENCES    OF    HOME. 

IV. 

When  Parting's   melancholy  hour  draws  nigh, 
How  thrills  the  heart  of  him  who  bids  farewell 

To  those   endeared  by  friendship's  hallowed  tie, 
Who  leaves  his  childhood's  home,  around  which 

dwell 
Familiar  things  that  of  his  pastimes  tell. 

His  thoughts  are  now  of  friends  beloved  with  whom 

O 

He  parts.     Ere  he  return,  the  funeral  knell, 
Perchance,  will  speak  their  passage  to  the  tomb, 
Or  he  may  rest   beneath   some  lonely  grave-yard's 
gloom  ! 

v. 
SUFFIELD  !  home  of  my  earliest  youthful   hours, 

Place  where    my  fathers  lived,  my  fathers  died, 
How  oft  with  young  companions,  'in id  thy  bowel's, 
I  've  sat,  or  rambled  by  the  silvery  tide 
Of  thy   pure  rills  which  through   the   meadows 

glide, 
Winding  their  course  along  toward  other  streams  ; 

And  oft  I  've   climed  upon  the  mountain's  side, 
And   viewed   fair   Nature    'neath   the    sun's  warm 

beams — 

Days   of   my   youth !    ye    now    appear    like   airy 
dreams. 


POEMS    BY   S.    D.    niELPS.  1GI 


VI. 


Still  the  remembrance  of  each  pleasing  scene, 
Comes  o'er  my  spirit,  on  its   lightsome  wing, 

And    I    in    fancy    tread  the    vernal   green, 

And  gather  plants,  around  the  favorite  spring — 
By  the  pond's   shore  my  little  bark  I  bring, 

And  laugh,  as  o'er  the  wave   erect  it   sweeps — 
Now   to  the    burial  place   I  'm   wandering, 

Where,  'midst  its  silence  and  its  grassy  heaps, 

A  cherished  brother  lies,   and  kindest  father  sleeps  ! 


Fled  are  those  hours',  and  past  those  halcyon  days, 
Those   early  pleasures  arc   forever  gone  ; 

Clouds  have  obscured  the  fair  resplendent  rays 
Of  the  bright  sun  that  rose  so  clear  at  dawn, 
And  poured  its  glad  light  o'er  the  hill  and  lawn. 

Old   Time,  unwearied  in  his   tireless   flight, 
Ilath  rolled    his   ponderous   car  unceasing  on, 

And  left  sweet  scenes  that   burst  upon  my  sight, 

O'er  which   is   gathering  fast,   Oblivion's    darkling 
ni<rht. 


162  THE    REMINISCENCES    OF    HOME. 

VIII. 

RETREAT  OP  SCIENCE  !  oft,  within  thy   walls, 5 
Have  I  o'er  antique  wisdom   pondered  well, 

And  trod  with  joyous  step  thy  sacred  halls  ; 
And  then  alone,  as  in   sonic  silent  dell, 
Have  wooed  the  muse  wrapt  in  a  poet's  spell ; 

And    with   CALLIOPE'S  proud  sons   did  meet, 
To  hear  what  youthful  Ciceros  could  tell, 

While  some  laid  "  Garlands"    at  her  royal  feet, 

And    others    brought     their    gifts    with    eloquence 
replete. 

TX. 

Again,  glad  fount,  whence  streams  of  wisdom  flow, 

I  found  a  home   beneath  thy  classic  shade, 
And  joyful  saw  the   eye  with  rapture  glow, 

As  some  new  truth  the  learner's  toil  repaid. 

Oh,  ever  may  kind   Heaven,   his  fostering  aid, 
The  richest  favors  of  his   bounteous  hand, 

Grant  to   the   youth    who     shall   to    thee    have 

strayed, 

From  various  portions  of  our  cherished   land  ; 
And  blest  rewards  to  those  who  guide  the  aspiring 
band. 


POEMS    I'.Y    S.    D.    1'HELrS.  163 


X. 


SUFFIELD  ! — there  's  magic  in  that  word  to  me — 

It  calls  to  mind  a  thousand  scenes  gone  byj 
And  many  a  friend   whom  now  methinks  I  see ; 

But  ah  !  the  vision   fadeth  from  my  eye  ; 

For   some  I  fondly  loved   now  mouldering  lie, 
Wrapt  in  the  quiet  grave's  enshrouding  gloom  ; 

From  other  friends  I  parted  with  a  sigh — 
.Such  is  our  lot,  and   such  our  common  doom, 
Our  path  is   marked  with  change,  it  leadeth  to  the 
tomb  ! 


Through  all  the  journey  of  our  earthly  life, 

We  meet — we  part — and  onward  still  pursue, 
'Midst  varying  scenes  of  pleasure,  care,  and  strife, 

And  clasp  bright  hopes  that  fancy  brings  to  view. 

But  some  who  once,  with  vigor  warm   and   new, 
Trod  Science'  path  with  noble  spirits  brave, 

Alas'!  have  withered — gone  like   morning's  dew, 
And  o'er  their  tomb  the  weeping   willows  wave — 
Ay,    now  my  thoughts   are    turned    toward  loved 
grave  ! 


164  THE    REMINISCENCES    OF    HOME. 


XII. 


Land  of  my  happiest  days  !  I  Jove  the   still, 

Though   no\v   removed    from   all   that  's   joyous 
there  ; 

I  love  thy  varied  scenery  which  might  fill 
The  soul  that  loves  the  beautiful  and  fair, 
With  joy — for  what  to  thine  may  yet  compare? 

Thy  walks  I  love,  thy  fruitful  fields  around, 
Thy  elms  and  sycamores  that  to'.ver  in  air, 

Thy  friendly  homes,  the  church-hell's  solemn  sound, 

Whose  welcome   call  invites  where   heavenly  bliss 
is  found. 

XIII. 

'T  is  joy  the  Sabbath's  holy  morn  to  greet, 
And  join  the  worshipers  that  pass  along, 

Within,    their    sanctuary-home  to  meet — 

To  bow  in  prayer,  and  chant,   in  accents  ?lrong 
And  sweet,   the  sacred,  soul-inspiring  song; 

Then  list   to  words  with   peerless  wisdom  rife, 
And  see  the  Sunday  school,  its  youthful  throng, 

Free  from  a  sinful  world's  contending  strife, 

Drink  at  the  crystal  fount  of  Everlas:ing  Life. 


POEMS    BiT    S.    D.    PHELPS.  165 

XIV. 

SUFFIELD  !  how  oft  thy  peaceful  bowers  among, 
Have  I  such  scenes  enjoyed  with  many  a  friend  : 

And  heard  the  sweet  baptismal   anthem  sung, 
The  humble  orison  to   Heaven  ascend, 
As  to  the  Saviour's  rite  the  faithful  bend, 

And  rise,  and  on   their  pilgrim-way  rejoice. 

And  oft  I  sought,  when   evening  shades  extend, 

The  place  of  prayer,  or   heard  the  pastor's  voice  ; 

And  still  may  he  be  crowned  with  gifts  of  heavenly 
choice. 


'T  is  evening's  hour,  and  lone  as  I  survey 
The  vesper-star  that   beams   in  yonder  sky, 

My  thoughts  toward  home  are  wandering  away, 
And  lingering  round  remembered  scenes  gone  by, 
Deeming  a  friend,  perchance,  with  watchful  eye, 

In  calmest   solitude    and   silence  there, 
Is  gazing  on   the  self-same  star  on  high, 

And  breathes  a  whisper  on  the  floating  air, 

Which  now  I  seem  to  catch   and   mutual   converse 

share. 

1-5 


166  THE    REMINISCENCES    OF    HOME. 

XVI. 

Farewell,  loved  home,  thy  name  my  bosom  thrills  ! 

Adieu,  ye  pleasing  scenes  of  fond  delight ; 
Ye  mountains,    meads,   and    groves,  and  circling 

rills- 
Farewell,  kind  friends,  may  naught  our  friendship 

blight  ; 

To  you  my  glad  thoughts  wing  their  way  to-night; 
Farewell,  ye   venerable   trees,    which   tell 

That  time  is  passing  with  a  meteor  flight — 
Farewell,  proud  River,  on  thy  banks  I  'd  dwell  ; 
lint — hush,   my    wayward   harp — Echo   responds, 

FAREWELL  ! 
Providence,   R.   I, 


NOTES. 


168 


NOTES, 

NOTE  1.  PAGE  14.  Reference  is  here  made  to  the  late  la 
mented  Josiah  SfcWhinnie,  a  native  of  Scotland,  and  a  young 
man  of  unusual  promise.  This  Poem  (Eloquence  of  Nature) 
was  delivered  at  the  Annual  Exhibition  of  the  Connecticut  Lit 
erary  Institution,  in  August,  IS  10.  One  year  previous,  Mr. 
McVVhinnie  completed  hla  preparatory  studies  at  the  Institu 
tion,  and  delivered  at  the  E.xhihition  a  beautiful  and  eloquent 
production  on  the  "  Highland  Scenery  of  Scotland."  He  soon 
after  entered  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Newton,  Mass,  and 
while  laboring  daring  the  vacation  with  the  Baptist  Church  at 
Chelsea,  died,  after  a  short  illness.  His  simplicity  of  manners, 
his  frankness  and  candor,  his  deeds  of  kindness,  and  his  ardent 
and  cheerful  piety  tenderly  attached  him  to  all  who  had  the 
pleasure  of  forming  his  acquaintance. 

NOTK  2.  PARK  43.  In  the  account  given  iu  Exodus  of  the 
destruction  of  the  hosts  of  Pharaoh  in  the  lied  Sea,  nothing  is 
8uid  of  a  storm.  But  in  Pslams  77  :  ](> — '20,  and  in  Josephus, 
a  most  fearful  tempest  is  mentioned  as  accompanying  the  aw 
ful  event. 

NOTE  3.     PAGE  101.     See  Note  1. 

NOTE  4.  PAGE  145.  In  m:iny  congregations,  there  are  So 
cieties  of  Young  Ladies,  who  meet  together  for  the  purpose  of 
sewing,  knitting,  Arc.  to  provide  clothing  for  destitute  children, 
that  they  may  attend  the  Sabbath  School — to  aid  indigent  pious 
young  men,  in  acquiring  an  education — and  to  assist  the  needy 
generally.  Such  are  here  denominated  tho  "  Sisters  of  Charity." 

NOTE  5.  PAGE  162.  In  this  verse  reference  is  made  to  the 
Con.  Lit.  Institution  at  SufField,  and  to  the  Calliopean  Society 
connected  with  it.  For  a  time  several  of  its  members  conducted 
a  paper,  called  "  Calliope's  Garland,"  which  was  read  before 
the  Society  at  its  regular  meetings.  At  this  Institution  the 
writer  pursued  his  studies  preparatory  to  entering  College,  and 
subsequently  spent  a  few  months  there  as  an  assistant  instructor, 
to  which  allusion  is  made  in  the  next  stanza. 

%*In  some  parts  of  the  volume  a  few  typographical  errors, 
mostly  in  orthography,  were  overlooked  in  reading  the  proof 
sheets. 


DATE  DUE 


000554623 


